Gallery Nine
by Invisible Staircase
Summary: AU: Gallery Nine, the hottest club in the city, isn't famous just for its music. No, the hosts that offer a good time there are almost legendary, but even beyond that, is there a darker secret to the Gallery? France x America
1. Chapter 1

**Story Introduction:**

New story, new introduction. Hooray!

So, this fic is AU, where everyone is human (so sorry to say), so human names will _mostly_ be used. This fic probably won't be for everyone as I'll have some pairings and some characters in roles that well, I dunno, aren't exactly the most popular? But hey, you can't please everyone, and I write this for my own amusement first and foremost. So yes… expect a bit of OOC-ness, but done intentionally. Otherwise I do try to stay true as I can while butchering someone else's work. XD

Rated M for a reason folks, and yes, there shall be some male x male lovin' here (and some npc fems thrown in here and there). Not this chapter, but later, later.

Enjoy!

* * *

Gallery Nine. If you were anyone who even remotely set foot into the city, then you sure as hell had heard of it. Even if you were from the neighboring city, you knew of it. Gallery Nine was the sort of establishment that people made a point of learning about. You simply weren't in 'the know' if you didn't know about Gallery Nine, you weren't a part of 'the scene'. The movers, the hipsters, the hot topics… they all knew about Gallery Nine, and they'd all been there. Oh, you haven't gotten into Gallery Nine? Well, not everyone can be cool. The world needs rejects, after all.

It wasn't just a club, though the bright kaleidoscope of colored lights inside painted a vivid picture and sparkled across the main dance floor. There was music, there was dancing, and there were hot music stars gracing the stage almost nightly… yet that wasn't the draw of Gallery Nine. It was more than a place to dance, and it was more than a place to get drunk. The bar dazzled the eye with its multicolored shelves of the finest alcoholic beverages, bottles and labels spanning the globe with bartenders so versed in drink they could make you anything your heart could desire. The bar, the dance floor… those were only the first level of Gallery Nine, and if you'd only been to the bottom floor, you hadn't really been there at all.

Gallery Nine was a world you could turn to if you were looking to find a companion. The second floor of the club was devoted to the fulfilling of dreams, to the bringing together of people and desire. Private rooms of all decor and theme filled the second floor of Gallery Nine, and whatever your fantasy was, the 'hosts' of the Gallery were there to provide it for you. From quiet honest companionship to deliriously deviant dalliances, the second floor offered it all to those few precious patrons allowed up. The opponents of the Gallery, those closeted conservative valued warriors would say the second floor was nothing but a nest of prostitution. Those of the Gallery Nine would challenge them or anyone else to find a prostitute that could do precisely what _they_ did.

The third and fourth floors were a mystery to all but those employed at Nine, though it was suspected that some were private rooms… for those who worked the second floor of Gallery Nine were never… ever… seen leaving the establishment.

Staring at the exterior of the building, at the stark modern lines of the walls and windows, at the minimalistic and geometric lighting, Arthur Kirkland shuddered. His fingers rested between the dusty metal slats of miniblinds, propping them open just enough for one green eye to peer out. There was more that was said about Gallery Nine, and certainly none of it was good. As if the prostitution claims weren't bad enough, there were wild rumors that the Gallery served as a base of sorts for not only a drug trade, but for human and organ trafficking on the black market. There was nothing wholesome about the establishment, yet even if they were supposedly selling stolen military weapons to civilians and terrorists, thus far, no law enforcement agencies had been able to claim any proof.

Units had been sent in, surprise busts and searches conducted. It was as if the owners and employees had a sixth sense about dodging the law. Every time someone had been sent in to bust them, from official raids to an undercover customer, things had magically seemed to be on the up and up. There were no drugs found ever, no illegal weapons, no abducted people shoved in closets and crates. Even the second floor with its bold claims and reputation had always come up clean within the laws of the city. The law was stumped; the government could find nothing to slap the Gallery with. Gallery Nine was untouchable… so far.

"He's in there," Arthur whispered, a sense of disgust and trepidation radiating through his voice even if he was trying to stay calm. There was deep worry in his words, but he tried to hide it all with anger. Granted, the anger _was_ real… anger at that establishment, but more anger at himself. Calmly pulling away from the window, Arthur backed away, trying not to make any sudden movements that could be perceived from the world outside. Yes, he had his light off, the storage room completely dark, but you couldn't be too careful. Not if you were trying to get into Gallery Nine, not when you were part of the task force designated to bring it down.

"D…Do you think he's… ok?" The soft and timid voice nearly made Arthur jump, and his heart raced as he turned to stare wide eyed at what seemed to be a person. Wasn't he alone in this room?! Oh… no wait… there _was_ someone else in here with him… it was… it was…

"O-Oh… right… Matthew," he whispered, more to remind himself than anything. The other man in the room seemed to give a resigned sigh at the reaction, yet his timid blue eyes continued to stare from beneath glasses at Arthur. A hand was raked through rebellious choppy blond hair, and a sigh escaped his lips. "He'd better be… he _promised_ us he'd be able to do this… but I suppose that's all rubbish at this point, now, isn't it?" There was a decidedly bitter edge to his voice by the end of his statement, but what could you expect? That bloody idiot had boasted he could take care of this no problem, claiming he'd be the hero who busted the Gallery Nine. Arthur couldn't curse the idiot enough… nor could he curse himself for going along with the fool enough either.

"I'm worried about him… it's been too long… he promised he'd get out by now…" Matthew was rambling softly to himself, so softly that Arthur honestly almost began to forget the other was there, even though he was staring right at him. He had to shake his head, furrowing his brow and pulling together his rather impressive eyebrows together in deep concentration.

"Well, that's why we're here, now, isn't it? We don't leave our agents behind, and if he needs our assistance he'll have it. We've just got to be careful getting in there… if we blow our cover it would put him in further danger…"

Six months ago, the government had set up a special task force of agents from various law enforcement agencies, hoping to infiltrate Gallery Nine and confirm once and for all just what illegal activities they were engaged in. Undercover agents posing as clients simply wasn't working… they needed a man on the inside. They needed to plant someone on floor two… it was a deep undercover operation certainly not for the faint of heart or the modest.

'_It's more likely that fool went and got himself killed though… he's no good at lying, keeping secrets or acting!'_

Arthur could feel the tension run though his hand, balling into a fist the more he thought about Alfred's attempt at going under cover. His teeth all but ground together as he tried to keep his emotions in check over this, wishing he could turn back time and… and… what… volunteer to go instead? Not bloody likely, but he could have at least pushed to have someone _else_ try to go and play whore. "Come on, let's get away from the window before we say anything else…" Nodding, Matthew followed Arthur out of the room, out to the small employee break room they'd commandeered for their mission.

Their base of operations was a liquor store, a low key convenience market. They'd rigorously done a background on the owner and the employees before approaching them for the mission. While at first they'd kept far away from Gallery Nine, the continued lack of communication from Alfred was worrying, pushing their hand. The task force had relocated closer, right across the street, and the five agents left on the outside were now living right here. Sleeping bags didn't make for a good week of resting, but they wanted to limit how much they were seen as much as possible.

Stepping into the break room, the previously mentioned sleeping bags could be seen bundled up neatly against the wall in a puffy little huddle on yellowing linoleum flooring. The sickly sound of a dying refrigerator competed with the droning of an air conditioning unit. A sink was dripping dismally from the break counter, and Arthur shot it a dirty glare. The constant rumble and hum of electronics he could deal with, but he knew he'd not be getting any solid nights of sleep with the irregular drips, no matter how many soft sponges or cloths they set about to help muffle the noise. Turning his eyes away, he looked to the three men sitting at the round wobbling break table.

'_What an absolute mess we are…'_ They couldn't have picked a worse team if they wanted to. _Every one of them_ had a personal connection to this case (now that Alfred was on the inside at any rate)… each and every one of them.

There was Ludwig first and foremost, the second highest ranking agent here, directly under Arthur. Though the man carried himself with a stoic professionalism, there were times here and there where his composure would slip, and anger would get through. Why not though? How many men could have their lover disappear, only to become rumored as a whore in such a suspicious establishment? According to the blond man, there was no way his partner was there of his own free will, and his blue eyes were fierce when he declared the other man had been kidnapped.

Lovino Vargas also passionately agreed that Ludwig's partner had been kidnapped, though he blamed it entirely on the tall German. You were asking for a headache if you brought up Lovino's twin, even if it was necessary for their investigation. The hot-blooded Italian was volatile at the best of times, and when it came to his brother, well, the gloves came right off. Arthur suspected he must have used some shady means of his own to get assigned to this special force, because while Ludwig's relationship was politely kept under wraps, no one could possibly be fooled into thinking Lovino had no personal interest in this case.

It was, most likely, also due to Antonio that Lovino had made it onto the case. Gazing at the Spaniard, Arthur had a deep feeling that Antonio had worked hard to assist his own lover here on getting onto this particular case. It was a terrible mess, if you asked Arthur, and it seemed absurd. If you took the five of them as a small sample, you'd almost believe everyone was gay or related. Coincidences were piled high, and of course Arthur couldn't deny his own messy personal connections to this case.

Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams were brothers, yet another set of twins in this convenient cluster of coincidence. Though they had differing names thanks to a messy parental divorce, one look at the two clearly illuminated their shared blood. The two were childhood friends of Arthur's, and the three had gone through schooling and up similar paths. It hadn't been together, for Arthur had a few years on them, but their shared interests and passions had taken them down the same life path. Arthur had many fond memories of tutoring the boys on the trickier exams, or rather, of tutoring Alfred as Matthew seemed to have a much sharper head on his shoulders.

And now… now that fool who he'd helped raise (it almost felt some times)… was in trouble. Number six of their unit… undercover and gone right off the radar.

Arthur took a seat and groaned. It was nine o'clock at night, and though he was weary, it was just about time for them to set their little rescue plan into action. All eyes moved to him as he heard someone (correction, Matthew, why was that so hard to remember?) take a seat. He cleared his throat and looked at each man in turn.

"The Gallery doors will be opening for the first floor soon," he began. Despite the fact that, apparently, the second floor would take guests at any time, their unit had yet to gain such an appointment and had to follow the schedule of the first floor. "I'll be heading for the line then… hopefully I'll make it into the club portion…"

"I still say you should let me… I mean Antonio do it!" Lovino was on his feet, shouting out the same argument he'd been yelling since they'd formulated their plan. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Ludwig's voice rose up to do it for him.

"Lovino, your brother will recognize Antonio and it goes without saying _everyone_ there will 'recognize' you all things considered."

"So? Shut up potato bastard! I don't trust anyone but myself and Antonio to get him out!"

"Well you're going to have to deal with it!" Arthur snapped at him, slapping a hand down on the plastic of the table top. He tried to ignore the tingling pain that exploded over his hand from the force of it as he leveled his eyes at Lovino. Typically even a small display of aggression could get Vargas to back down, but he seemed to be rather bold of late due to his brother's position. "As Ludwig and even _you_ admit, your brother _cannot_ be counted upon to be discrete! We cannot have him obviously recognizing anyone on our team, and though Alfred is certainly an idiot… it is… more likely that he… will not compromise our cover."

"If he hasn't already!" Lovino spat, sitting in his chair and crossing his arms, his face red and cheeks puffed out almost comically. By his side Antonio leaned over, attempting to comfort him through simple pets and gestures. All he got for his efforts were curses and hands batting him away. Still, at least Lovino wasn't shouting anymore. Arthur took in a breath and tried to calm his own nerves.

"Yes, if he hasn't already, which we all know is entirely possible." The gravity in the room seemed oppressive, Matthew's shoulders seeming to sag especially. In some ways, Arthur really did wish they could send in Antonio. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of entering the Gallery, but the other man was far more suited to mingling in such a place. Antonio was a duplicitous man, all too suited to the undercover work he did for a living. He could seem all wonderful smiles and easy casual charisma one moment, but if you weren't careful, you'd be drawn right into his trap. He was the sort of man needed to go poking about in such an open social setting. He was a far better choice than Arthur who had grown much more introverted and, well, prickly over the years.

'_Ah but I was wild not too long ago… I've simply got to grasp that feeling again…'_ He'd have to do something, at any rate, if he wished to obtain an appointment or access to the second floor.

"You'd better get changed, then," Ludwig spoke up at last, his rigid frame not betraying just how much _he_ wished he could barge in there, guns blazing, and rescue his partner.

"Yes of course."

"The wire has been sewn into the collar of your shirt… it's ready to go…" Matthew gave Arthur a weak and hopeful smile, encouragement perhaps. Arthur nodded resolutely and went to the bathroom, where he knew his outfit for the night had been laid out for him. Closing his eyes once he was alone, he let his composure slip just slightly. _'You'd better be alive.'_

X x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Hey hey, I can do it myself! How do you even keep gettin' in here? This is my room, _mine!_"

"Tsk tsk, now now… how do you ever expect to be dressed properly if you don't let me help you?"

"I don't care! I don't gotta look all fancy anyway, that's my thing, ya know? I'm the wildly awesome good looking one! Ya know, the cool rebel without a cause kinda guy!"

"Haha… yes indeed… however… that is your _image_, and sadly, if left to you, that image falls apart."

"Shut up Francis, like I said I can dress myself!"

"Yes, poorly."

"Get out!"

Hands continued to push and swat at a blond man with wavy hair, the man stepping back and flicking a hand through the silky strands. The two were standing before a full length mirror and, one impeccably dressed and the other, well, somewhat of a fashion nightmare.

"Please," Francis began, a cool smile on his lips, a hand touching his lightly bearded chin with the back of his fingers delicately. "Even I know better than to start anything when you have an appointment coming oh so soon. But truly Alfred… are you even looking in the mirror? Please, you must allow me to assist you… at the very least with your hair…"

"My hair's fine!" Alfred shot back, raking his hand through the blond locks, fighting with that annoying patch that forever stuck up in the front before giving up. He let his hands drop, smoothing at his clothes and tugging them down here and there. From behind his glasses, he examined his look. What was so wrong with it? You couldn't really mess up jeans and a (purposely) ripped up form fitting t-shirt could you? He thought he looked awesome, especially with the way the shirt showed off his totally and completely hot abs and muscles. He was tempted to flex for himself in the mirror, and almost did, until he remembered the perverted man still in his room watching.

"Seriously, what's wrong with my clothes? This is what I'm supposed to wear."

"Alfred… there is more to it than simply putting on the clothes!" Francis took a small step forward, cocking his head to the side and holding out a hand, at last _asking_ for permission to get his hands on the younger man. Alfred bit back the 'no' that wanted to fly right off his lips. As much as heroes absolutely did _NOT_ need help with things like getting dressed and going on super secret under cover missions, Alfred had to (very grudgingly) admit that the other man had been… helpful to him… exceptionally so.

The fact that Francis had figured out Alfred's secret and set out helping him on his mission was another reason he had trouble outright refusing him. Though the undercover agent had no idea how the man had seen through his awesomely wicked acting skills, somehow he had. He'd been all ready to make a totally heroic escape and abort the mission when the other had offered to actually help him, coaching him and assisting in the forming of a believable cover. It was… uncomfortable, but Alfred could work with this guy if it meant possibly making this mission a success. Even if the guy was a total pervert. Which he was, if Alfred hadn't made that clear yet.

He didn't even want to think about the headache he'd get once Arthur found out he'd been nearly compromised so quickly, or that he'd spilled the details of their mission to an outsider. Still, he was supposed to infiltrate and figure things out, right? So hey, no one said he couldn't make an ally or two! Defenders of justice always had allies and sidekicks!

Hands running along the fabric on his hips startled him back to the present. "Hey hey hey! No starting something, remember?!" He swatted at the hands that'd begun to travel towards his rear, but was answered with a musical chuckle right at his ear. Alfred gulped, turning his eyes to the mirror in front of him to gaze at Francis, the other man's lips right by his ear. When had he gotten so close?

"Honestly, such a small gesture has your face turning red… how can you remain such a child after all you've done here?" There was coy teasing in the other's voice, and Alfred simply turned a scowl at the other man. Francis let a purr of a laugh escape before continuing what he was doing, namely tugging Alfred's pants lower so that they'd show off his hip bones. "You must remember you are presenting yourself for the fantasy, yes? You are on display, your clothing the garnishing to the dish, mmm? Therefore… you must highlight the most appetizing parts…"

Francis continued to subtly adjust Alfred's clothes, smoothing them out in places and leaving the shirt purposely skewed towards one shoulder to reveal some of his collarbone. Then he reached for the small dresser beside the mirror.

"Aww man, come on, real men and heroes don't wear jewelry!" Their eyes met in the mirror, but sadly Alfred knew he was going to lose on this point… as he'd lost night after night after night. He could only grimace as Francis retrieved a chain choker and a handful of solid colored bracelets. He slipped both on the all but pouting blond, his fingers trailing teasingly along skin as he did so. All the warning looks in the world weren't enough to deter Francis.

"I truly do wish you'd let me pierce your ears Alfred… it would certainly enhance your image." Francis looked at him with a hint of a plea to his eyes, but Alfred shook his head no. "Ah well. Then there's simply this…" Lifting both of his hands, Francis let his fingertips come up to rest on the frames of Alfred's glasses. He moved his body so that he was standing facing Alfred, between him and the mirror. Gently he began to tug them off, and Alfred opened his mouth, starting to protest.

"Shh… shh…" Alfred could just feel the warmth from Francis' s breath on his lips, his shoulders tensing just slightly. His eyes sought to connect with the other's as the glasses were pulled from his face, the gaze shared between them laced with unsteady emotions. Alfred simply… wasn't always sure how to deal with Francis. The man was his ally, and he was pretty sure the other was just one of those perverted guys that flirted with _everything_. What threw him off though were times like this, when Francis was looking into his own eyes so deeply, with such a warm and almost doting look in his eyes.

Alfred wasn't a deep thinker most times, and he hadn't been any more successful in conjuring up a reason for Francis helping him than he'd been in flat out asking for one. It was little moments like this, when Alfred got the frightening feeling that Francis was doing this because he… because he…

"There… now the look is complete, much better no?" Francis stepped away, gesturing to the mirror with a flourish. Alfred squinted his eyes, trying to take in his reflection without the aid of his glasses. He wasn't blind, not by a long shot, but he couldn't get the best of looks like this. Everything was just a _little_ bit blurred.

"Whatever!" He quipped, though even with the slight blurring he had to admit his look was greatly improved from the so subtle adjustments. "A hero always looks good, all I need is this!" With that Alfred turned to face Francis, flashing a thumbs up and a dazzling open smile. People loved his smile… he knew it… because it was just like the smile heroes in movies had. That and it being one of the things his clients complimented the most. He didn't need people to tell him things though, Alfred was confident enough to know what was good about him. Namely everything of course!

"Haha… ah…" Francis was at a loss for words, and only tossed a smile of his own back, though his was far less innocent, and certainly suggestive. He propped a hand on his hip, letting his eyes obviously trail over the man before him before beginning to saunter for the door. "Very well, now that I know the clueless child is properly dressed, I can go ready myself for the night."

"Wha? Aren't you all set up already?"

"Ah my dear little Alfred, just because _some_ of us prefer to dress with taste at all times does not mean I am always ready! Ah no, this is simply my casual attire, no? Though I am pleased to know you find it so ravishing on me…"

"Oh shut up!" Alfred shot back, though he was surprised. Francis was wearing a pair of fine slacks tailored to show off his legs and rear, tailored to hug all the right places as he moved and walked. The button up silk shirt was the color of a fine red wine, buttoned just enough to tease you with the lines of his chest. Alfred didn't ever get to see Francis work, always confined to his own 'work room', but to think he could look 'better' than that was… surprising.

'_Not that I'm thinking he looks good now of course!'_

Once at the door, Francis paused to turn and blow a kiss to Alfred, dipping his voice low. "Enjoy your lady friend, but do keep in mind that you can only refuse to _entertain_ men for so much longer, yes? My offer still stands…"

Alfred let out a nervous laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching as he waved the other man away. It wasn't until the door was shut that he let out a deep breath, falling to crouch on the floor, shaking his head dismally. "I already know that…" he lamented to the floor. The 'hosts' of Gallery Nine were reputed to be everyone's dream, the fulfillers of fantasy. _Everyone's_. As the newest host in the lot of them, Alfred knew he was being given 'easy' clients, clients he had no significant aversion to entertaining. It was as much of a trial period as a warm up, and he knew that the bosses were nearing the time when they'd start expanding his client base.

Mission or no, Alfred quite honestly didn't know if he'd be able to entertain a man. He knew as a hero it was his job to successfully complete this mission… but there were just some things a hero didn't do! Heroes didn't compromise their values just to get the bad guys. If he went against what he thought was right (or rather in this case, what he was comfortable with), then he'd be only slightly better than the 'bad guys'.

Alfred wasn't against homosexuality or anything… but he also was sure he didn't swing that way. Arthur always complained he was a terrible actor… there'd be no way to fool a guy into thinking he was into that sort of thing then, right? It was disaster for his mission if he messed up, that was for sure. _'Ugh, which is the only reason I've considered that stupid Francis's offer at all!'_ Hitting the floor with his fist, Alfred stifled a cry of frustration just in time to hear a knock on the door. He took a deep breath and stood up, putting on his award winning smile and his game face. _'Ok, let's go, pretend ya love it here!'_

He walked to the door, opening it up to see Toris standing there waiting for him. He flashed the usher a genuine smile, finding the other to be someone he actually liked here. _'Well, aside from the bosses, everyone here is actually pretty cool really… except Francis of course…'_ "Hey," he said casually, already shutting his door and following the other to go down to the second floor. Toris actually had the job that Alfred wished he could have snagged. He was the usher, the man who met the clients as they arrived at the second floor and led them to their rooms for the night, collecting the hosts after.

"Hello Alfred, your client is already waiting for you."

"Cool cool man, she mention anything special she wants or anything?"

Toris gave a nervous smile, nodding his head and causing the brown waves to bounce slightly. "I umm, wouldn't count on keeping your shirt on for long… she's rather," an embarrassed cough broke the statement. "Umm, she likes muscles so… show off?"

Alfred laughed, loud and boisterous and free. "Hahaha, I sure can do that!" Toris smiled back a little bit more warmly.

"I thought you might say so." They paused at the door, and Toris dipped his head in a bow. "Well then, please call me when Miss Renfield is ready to leave."

"You got it buddy!" Alfred flashed a thumbs up and another blinding smile before all but slamming the door open, causing the woman inside to jump. His smile never waved though, even as his eyes became intense and focused. _'Ok hero, we gotta do this!' _Granted, as he stepped into the room he had to decidedly shut off the portion of his brain that said he was engaging in some decidedly un-heroic activities here. The door closed behind him, and Alfred moved to the woman's side, thinking about tomorrow, and his attempts at digging about for info during the early hours.

X x x x x x x x x x x x

Step one: Arthur was in. After standing outside the Gallery in a line for two whole hours, he was finally inside. As if the wait hadn't left him tired and cranky and irritable enough as it was, the sudden assault of loud dance music here on the first floor was pummeling away his will and tolerance to be here. He really just wanted to shove his way right back out of this place and curl up at home with a good book and a cup of tea.

His eyes glanced to the bar, and damn if he didn't want a drink to help him get through this mission. Unfortunately, he knew all too well what happened to him when he got even a little alcohol into him, and he'd been told by each member of the team before he'd left not to even _order_ one drink. Not even for the sake of appearances. A part of him grumbled and wanted to argue with them, tell them that he _could_ handle at least _one_ drink, but he couldn't bring himself to tell such an obvious lie.

'_Just think of Alfred… just think of Alfred… not that thinking of that fool will calm you down… but think about the tongue lashing you can give him when you pull him out of here. Yes… think of that.'_

With his resolve set, Arthur started trying to work his way through the crowds, green eyes keenly taking in the lay of the place. He cursed rather often under his breath as he was jostled about, refusing to acknowledge that his lack of height was making things difficult for him. _'Why the hell are these people in here so tall?'_ He shoved along the dance floor as well as he could, and if there was one thing to be grateful of in this sardine packed crowd, it was that he didn't actually have to dance. There wasn't really the proper space for it, and he blended in decently with everyone else by rocking his hips _just slightly_ and letting his shoulders bob to the beat.

'_Ah, there, that must be the stairway to the second floor…'_ Arthur had seen an elevator earlier, but it had a clear 'employees only' sign upon it, and no doubt required the key to operate. It was probably easier to filter the clients up the stairs, where they'd be visible the entire time. Arthur 'danced' his way closer, trying to get a good look at anyone coming from the second floor or going up. Unfortunately, as the minutes ticked on and the songs continued to flow and change, absolutely no one was approaching the stairs. He cursed inwardly, frustrated and uncomfortable. He was sweating thanks to the heat of the dance floor, and he was getting a bit out of breath from all of the jostling as well. The noise was overwhelming as well, and Arthur couldn't imagine that this sort of scene wasn't too different from the one he'd thrived on in his wild years.

'_Oh finally, yes!' _Someone broke out of the crowd, discretely making their way towards the stairs. Arthur also discretely moved his way closer, pretending to fight for cell phone reception near the steps. He strained his ears, but of course couldn't hear anything but the music roaring through the building. Cautiously he cast furtive glances up, and thought he could just barely see the man who'd walked up conversing with another person. There were some rather imposing guards up there also he noted, all black suits and mobster cliché. The person the supposed client was talking to was blond, with flat green eyes. Arthur frowned trying to make out if it was a boy or a girl. The clothes he could see could really go either way.

Eventually another man, one with brown hair, came up and gathered up the now confirmed client, and they were led away and beyond Arthur's sight. _'Well, it doesn't appear as though any objects or invitations were passed on… I suppose this is as good a time as any to make my move.'_ Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Arthur started up the stairs, trying to seem as nonchalant as he possibly could. As he reached the top of the stairs he could see how simple a set up it was. The two guards sat on either side of the walls, and in between them was a small table with two chairs, presumably for the blond and the brunette men. The blond (yes, Arthur was confident it was a man now at this distance) had seemed to be about to take his seat again when Arthur arrived.

"Huh? Like, who are you?" The man drawled out, green eyes dipping to look at an open folder on the table. _'Ah, that must be a schedule of clients,' _Arthur mused. Too bad he wasn't close enough to catch a look at the names. "I just totally showed the next client in and like, no one else is scheduled to show up for like, an hour dude." The two living meat shields shifted protectively, and Arthur tried to flash a disarming smile. It came out as an embarrassed grimace, but it would do. He coughed and looked rather sheepish.

"Umm… well you see… I'd heard that… umm… on the second floor, the Gallery was ah, a bit, different?" There we go, play the confused newbie card. He looked hopefully at the other man, who sighed dramatically and started flapping his hand in the air in rather girlish annoyance.

"Like, great, you're another one of those huh? Like, this totally sucks how often I have to deal with like, losers like you who don't have a clue or anything. I mean it's just so lame and junk and I mean, this shouldn't be part of my job but like, if I didn't do this then the boss would be mad and I'd totally have to like…"

"Erm…" Arthur cut in, fearing what would happen if he remained silent. The other hadn't looked ready to stop talking any time soon. "I'm very sorry; I just wasn't sure how it worked…"

"Like, duh dude… of course you didn't. That was so totally obvious!" The blond huffed and flicked the ends of his hair out of the way. Arthur could barely stop from sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So… would you be able to tell me perhaps?"

The other let out a loud huff and dramatically flopped down into his chair. He flipped through pages contained in the folder, before pulling out an application. Yes, an honest to goodness application. "So, like, you gotta fill this out and bring us in a signed copy of a medical test proving that you don't have any totally gross and contagious diseases cuz like, we're a legit business and all and we can't be letting people make our employees sick and stuff. Oh and don't even think about like, taking this application and making copies to give out because we totally change it every day and like, have this watermark on it that totally shows if you scan it and make copies and stuff."

Arthur took the form, staring at it. He'd take a better look at it later, once he'd gotten out of here. "Is that all?" His mind was already working over the problem of the medical report.

"Umm… yep. You turn that in and we'll do our thing and then you'll like, get a call back from us and you'll either be totally happy or out of luck and we'll tell you how much money it's gonna be and stuff when we discuss what exactly you want at your pre-appointment."

'_There certainly are a lot of rules and hoops to jump through for this,'_ Arthur thought bitterly, and he wondered why more people weren't turned off right away by how much trouble this was. Of course, that was probably part of why it was done, to deter the undesirables. At least on some level, it provided a meager amount of comfort for Arthur. If clients were investigated this thoroughly, then hopefully no one awful had run up against Alfred. Not that Alfred wasn't strong, but the thought of someone trying to beat him around did not sit well.

"Right then," he said, folding the application. "Do I just turn this in to you or…?" The other man just nodded, apparently bored with talking to Arthur (which he appreciated). "Very good then… erm, thank you." The other waved him off, and Arthur headed down the stairs. He danced for three more songs, so as not to look too suspicious, before making his way out of the club and into the blessedly silent early morning air. It chilled the sweat that caked his skin and sent pleasant shivers over his body.

Chancing a glance at his watch, he noticed that the time was three in the morning. As much as he wished he could just walk directly back to the liquor store right across and head in to sleep, he knew he needed to hail a cab and go for a bit of a roundabout drive. If he was being tailed, he'd need to know. Bitterly he noted that it'd be an hour at the very least before he'd be able to bed down, and it was even worse that it'd be in an uncomfortable sleeping bag at that. He took this opportunity to curse Alfred and his ineptitude one more time, because of course, this was all his fault.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Phew, that was fun to write. I apologize to all of you who find what is likely to be the main pairing of this fic (FrUS) disgusting and so out of canon that it makes your head spin, but it crept into my head, and I found I liked it, even if it makes no sense anywhere but here. I suppose as it goes: Don't like, don't read. I take it a step farther and say don't even complain to me about it! XD There are lots of pairings here, America in many honestly. Yeah, it's one of _those_ fics.

Arthur and Alfred will not be the only points of view this fic follows, as it'll switch about as needed. I'm sure people have noticed I'm barely going to try to make Arthur sound accurate, and not trying to toss in bits of foreign languages at all. If I'm going to fail, I may as well fail at it for not trying. Honestly I'm confident my attempts would only end up insulting sadly.

Anyway, comments are always welcome, just be nice! The only criticism I want is _constructive._ I don't promise a fast update, but I do promise more chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, it was certainly nice to be back in _a_ home again, though sadly it was not his own. Arthur prowled through the rooms of the house, restless and disgruntled as he tried to familiarize himself with the building. It wasn't just the horrendous décor of the place that was getting on his nerves, though he was mentally promising a painful death to whoever had been in charge of making this place seem 'lived in' by Arthur. The 'old man' joke that'd been running through work was getting very _very_ old. Had Alfred not been in his current situation, Arthur would have thought he was behind this. Sadly not.

Naturally if Arthur was going to have his background looked at by the Gallery at all, he couldn't be found living inside the liquor store across the street. However, giving his true home address to the establishment didn't seem wise either. Antonio had stepped up to take care of creating a cover for Arthur, being the one most experienced at it. He'd called some of his colleagues, gotten them to cook up a plausible fake identity for Arthur, snag him a home and work with the neighbors to cement a cover story.

This whole application process had thrown them for a bit of a loop, and they'd had to consider suspending the mission or possibly dropping it. They hadn't known how clients were selected for the Second floor when they'd begun this all, and having such a thorough process was dangerous to their efforts. _If_ they discovered that Arthur was an agent it'd be bad enough, but if they used that to trace to Alfred? That could seal the man's fate right there. Serious discussion had been had about bringing in a civilian for this, and Antonio had assured them that he knew trustworthy people outside of the law department.

In the end, for various reasons the argument had fallen against the use of a civilian to sending Arthur in as originally planned. It'd been a close debate, and all of them did acknowledge personal emotions probably had factored into the final decision. However… they were professionals… and Arthur was confident they could do this. Or at least, he told himself he was confident in it, because now that they were committed to this there was nothing to be done. Time would tell if they'd made the right choice.

Taking a seat in an armchair with a repulsively festive floral pattern, Arthur drummed his fingers against the arm lightly. His large eyebrows furrowed into an impressive scowl as he searched for something to do. Yes, there was the television set, but honestly he'd never found anything on to be worth wasting his time on. His typical hobbies were sadly not an option, as he hadn't a chance to go home and bring anything over. He had to operate under the notion that he was being watched. He would leave his 'new home' here and there as a normal person should… but he had to avoid his old routines.

More than anything, he was frustrated because he didn't feel he was being useful at this precise moment. He knew he had to play this waiting game. No matter how anxious a client was, getting medical clearance was not a fast process. If he'd showed up again with it the very next day, he suspected they would have turned him away immediately. So he had to pretend he'd taken the time to set up a doctor's appointment, and then had to sit and wait through days of waiting for the fake test results. Oh yes, he'd had his 'results' ready the day after getting the application, but to keep things cool… he was waiting.

At the very least he could make a call to the rest of the team. They'd secured a line for that, a new cellphone he could call with. His 'home' was bug free, so provided things went well, he could at least find out how the surveillance was going this way. He dialed the number, wondering just who would be picking up.

"Arthur," came a deep steady voice, and he relaxed a bit. Truthfully, as long as it wasn't Vargas, Arthur was alright. "Did you need to speak to Antonio?"

"No, everything for the cover is going alright, though I suppose you could call me Gareth… get me used to hearing the name." According to the new license and credit cards in his wallet, he was apparently 'Gareth Doyle'. It was a satisfactory name, though it'd take a bit of getting used to.

"Ah, right… Gareth." The German cleared his throat, and Arthur took that as a cue to explain why he was calling.

"I'd like a status report… from the lack of contact from all of you I do gather that nothing must have happened, but if you have any observations otherwise I'd be glad to hear it. And also… well… is," he fumbled… suddenly unable to ask about the wellbeing of a certain member of their team. _'Just what is his name? Oh hell…_' "…are you all holding up alright?"

"Yes, no significant movement has been seen about Gallery Nine, including no visual confirmation of Jones or," Ludwig's voice seemed to waver just slightly when he continued with his statement, such a painful thing to hear from the typically stoic man. No doubt his worry for his lover was gnawing at him relentlessly. "… of Feliciano. We did note that what seems to be one of the first floor employees did come into the store for cigarettes, so we're being more cautious about being spotted from the store."

Ludwig took in a breath before addressing the end of Arthur's concerns. "Lovino seems ready to kill someone to get to his brother… or as he likes to threaten, go to his 'mafia' connections. Antonio has his hands all but full with him. I… attend to my duties as I should and…" His voice trailed off, as if trying to think if there was anyone else to report on. "Everyone here is fine, sir, yes." The puzzlement in his voice was clear over the phone line. Had Arthur been able to see the man, he would have also seen the disappointed yet accepting expression on Matthew's face right next to Ludwig at being left out.

"Very good then… tomorrow I shall head to the Gallery to turn in my application; no doubt you will all see me. Do keep me informed as I shall keep you all in turn."

"Yes, sir," and with that the call was ended. Arthur let out what almost seemed like a defeated sigh, running a hand over his eyes. This was no time to be getting so nervous, no time at all. He got back up and got back to learning his home. With a sarcastic roll of the eyes, he wondered if he should go outside and do some yard work, get to know the neighbors.

X x x x x x x x x x x x x

He slipped out the door, letting it close softly behind him. No sooner had the soft click of the latch touched the quiet of the hallway, did Francis all but turn to run straight into Toris. There was that awkward moment where the two men shifted quickly while attempting to not collide with too much force, hands reaching out and fumbling in hasty attempts to keep both of them standing up straight. It was with hands on each other's shoulders that the pair finally gained steady footing, tiny bits of laughter shaking off of them. With careful and amazingly chaste movements, Francis helped to smooth out the brunette's clothes.

"Ah Toris, please pardon me," he said smoothly, his voice holding a flirty sort of humor, though mild by his standards.

"It's alright Francis," the other returned amicably. Aside from a few gentle bits of teasing here and there, Francis was always very careful to keep polite and respectful of the other's personal space. It wasn't that Francis didn't find the other man attractive (oh how Francis wouldn't mind seeing more of him… wearing less…), and it wasn't because he found Toris intimidating either (so very far from it!). However, Toris was one of the favorites of one of his bosses, and that particular boss should _never_ be angered. Therefore, Francis made certain to keep a little bubble of chastity around the other, for both their safety.

The two fell into an easy stride together, as apparently they were both headed down the hall in the same direction. The host walked with graceful strides, catlike and ever on the prowl. Toris was much more subdued of course, making quite the contrast between them. Francis was on a slight personal mission at the moment, and he could only hope he wasn't about to be interrupted. The blond cleared his throat softly, casting a concerned glance towards the other from the corner of his eye. "You… you are not coming to fetch… Feliciano are you?"

Toris shook his head, a pained expression covering his face after a quick glance around to make sure the two were alone. "No, he has no clients for the next couple of days…"

"Oh thank god," Francis breathed, and by his side the brunette nodded somberly. Of course this did mean that Toris was collecting someone else for an appointment, but typically that wasn't a cause to worry about. Precautions were taken to ensure the clients weren't dangerous, after all. Unfortunately… sometimes, ever so rarely, a bad apple slipped into the bunch. "I was on my way to see him."

"That's good of you…" The look that Toris cast to Francis was so grateful, so full of thanks, that it almost made the other man blush. Such a kind and open expression… it was lovely. Francis had to focus his mind before he got himself in trouble here.

"Well, big brother must watch after the little ones, no?" He tossed a winning smile towards Toris, fighting to resist the natural bit of flirtation that seemed just under the surface, and the two parted ways as the usher continued on to collect someone else. Francis give a quiet knock to the door he wanted before letting himself in. "Ah, Feliciano," his voice purred out softly. "Are you awake?"

His eyes had to take a moment to adjust once he closed the door behind him, for there was only a low light cast from a small bedside lamp for illumination. There was a shade drawn over it, colorful so that it cast warm enchanting patterns throughout. There was a small movement from the bed in the room, a figure slowly and weakly moving to sit up. Francis quickly made his way to the bedside, trying to halt the figure as he took a seat on the edge. "No no Feliciano, please, do not try to sit up. Rest yourself now… just relax."

"Ve~? Big brother? Francis?" The slow breaths of someone just coming out of slumber slurred the younger man's speech just slightly, though the youth obeyed and continued to relax with his head against the pillow. Soft auburn hair fell in a short mess about his face, a defiant curl resting to the side. His eyes barely seemed to be able to open, and Francis wasn't certain if the other man could see him at all. Reaching out a hand to tenderly caress the cheek of the other, Francis smiled down at the injured youth.

"Yes, I'm here." He let his fingers linger with soft caresses, only reluctantly drawing still to remain on the other's cheek lightly. There was something about a helpless person in a bed that would always be oh so tempting to Francis, especially when they were as absolutely cute as this young Italian was. Oh how he was so very close to using this situation, so very close, but something else seemed to step up and stop him. It wasn't the innocence; innocence was such a turn on, but rather something else. The trust perhaps, and certainly the knowledge of what this young man had been through.

A happy little sigh filtered up to Francis's ears, and it helped to sooth the ache he felt inside looking down at Feliciano. The young man was pale, terribly so. It was out of place on skin that usually held such a natural and mild tan to it. The cheeks had become slightly gaunt, and the horrible lingering remnants of a black eye purpled his complexion. Francis knit his brows sadly, knowing that there were still a few bandages on his body beneath the pajamas he was wearing. The older man had to bite back a surge of anger the more he thought on what had happened to Feliciano four days ago, cursing the fact that aside from coming to give some moral support, there was nothing he could do.

Francis had been a part of the Gallery's second floor for quite some time now, and throughout the span of his 'employment' here he'd seen many hosts come and go. The only problem was, they never left on good circumstances. He'd seen people try to run away… and he'd seen the captive residents of the second floor simply fall apart and give up. To his mind, he could not recall a single one leaving from what he bitterly considered 'old age'. You couldn't be a host forever, now, could you? There came a time when you simply failed to appeal to the clients.

Casting a glance at his own reflection in the mirror on Feliciano's bedside table, Francis studied the man that peered back at him. Oh indeed, he still had his looks, and he was far from what he would consider old (though amusingly and predictably, every year older he got, the higher the age he considered 'old' to be). Wrinkles were not marring his much too handsome features yet! Not a single grey hair had invaded his impeccable silky mane. All the same… Francis knew he wasn't planning to run away… and he certainly had the proper temperament to last here as long as he could. So then, just what would happen to him when he no longer was 'desirable'?

It was the sort of musing that could plague him on a cold lonely night or on days like this when those he considered his precious little brothers had been harmed. Francis was decently respected by the hosts here for taking under his wing those who… well… simply didn't have what it took to survive here. He offered support and guidance to the poor souls who, through misfortunes personal and varied, came to call the Gallery Nine their new home. Perhaps that's how he would be of use in the future… perhaps he would be in charge of tending to the hosts here. Oh what a silly thought.

"Hey… Francis…" Feliciano's voice gently steered him away from his brooding, drawing his blue eyes once more to the slight young man. "I want some pasta…"

Francis chuckled. "Dear me, Feliciano. If you continue to demand pasta, no matter how much you adore it, you shall soon have quite the round little belly! Oh how big brother would cry to see such a round little Feliciano!"

"Ehhh… no way… I can eat as much pasta as I like and not get fat!"

"Haha… I'm sure you can… I'm sure you can. Alas, they keep me from the kitchens for some foolish reasons. Just because I was… friendly… with the cooks does not mean I should not be allowed to prepare for you some delicious dishes!" He gave Feliciano quite the lecherous little wink as if to further convey his final kitchen escapades.

Feliciano let out a small laugh, a smile turning up his lips and causing his eyes to crinkle. "Ve~ You're funny Francis."

"Thank you," he replied with a mock bow. It was good, no, it was _right_ to see Feliciano smiling. Despite the circumstances of his arrival here, Feliciano had never failed to present himself with a sunny disposition and a happy frivolous laugh to others. He was their own little bundle of sunshine, perhaps a bit childish and clumsy about certain things, but a nice change of pace from seriousness. Feliciano was rarely without a smile, even if Francis knew he desperately wanted to escape from here.

He'd almost made it a couple of times, too. The youth could be surprisingly quick when he was running from you, but unfortunately Gallery Nine's security was tight. Francis tried very hard not to remember what had happened to Feliciano _then_. It made now look… like nothing. "You really do appear to be feeling better," he mused before letting his eyes sweep Feliciano's room. They were all allowed some means to pass the time, usually in the form of DVDs or games or books brought in. There was even a fitness center of course, but that was more a requirement than an option considering their line of work.

For Feliciano, however, sketchbooks and paints were more the order of the day, and sure enough there were vibrant canvasses piled in the corner of the room.

"Ooooh… big brother is going to go take a look at your art," he drawled, earning a mild whine of protest.

"No… please stop taking my paintings! And I need to come get the ones you took back…"

"Ooooh? Challenging big brother? If that's the way you want to do it, I'll certainly play with you!" He let his hands wander to Feliciano's sides, in a tickling mockery of a grope that Francis was careful to keep light. The other was injured, after all.

"N-nooo… ve~ That tickles big brother!" The younger squirmed just a bit beneath his sheets, a laugh and a tiny grimace of pain both on his lips. Francis gave his head a light pat before standing, turning on a small lamp near the canvasses once he was close enough so he could see them better. Feliciano remained on his bed.

It was all a bit of a game really between the two of them, the supposed theft of the art and the futile efforts to get it back. Francis was careful never to take any paintings that he thought were terribly important to the other, while Feliciano had a habit of painting pieces here and there certain to catch the blond man's eye. Honestly, everything that the young man of Italian descent painted was gorgeous; he really had talent for it. Francis was careful never to delve_ too_ deeply into the personal lives of the other hosts, so he wasn't sure if Feliciano was a professional artist. If he wasn't, he _should_ be.

He was sorting through the canvasses slowly, already setting aside a positively lust worthy portrait of two lovers, when his eyes caught on _it_. There was one canvas that seemed as though it'd been hidden. It wasn't set with the others, and Francis could only barely make out the square edges under the mess of art supplies piled on top. One would hardly notice it really… and yet now he couldn't help but wonder. He started to push the art supplies away, and drew the painting up before his eyes.

He let out a soft gasp, eyes widening in awe of not only the splendid and superior detail, but at the loving warmth that seemed to radiate from the picture. It didn't seem like such an emotion could come from this painting, this portrait. The expression of the subject was anything but pleased, one might almost say somewhat vexed. There was a crease to the brow, a terseness of the lips. It was in the eyes that Francis was feeling the passion come free, sharp blue eyes that couldn't hide the apparent fondness this subject had for the viewer. _'No, for the painter.'_ The slicked back blond hair and facial features were not familiar to Francis, but that did not mean he did not very clearly understand just what he was holding.

"Feliciano… no…" His voice was soft and rueful. He shook his head, making soft sounds of disapproval. Behind him he heard Feliciano stir on the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of what painting Francis held. The strangled gasp only served to cement Francis's suspicions, as did the frantic scramble the other made off the bed. Through winces and stabs of pain Feliciano limped at Francis, virtually collapsing on the man while trying to yank the portrait from the blond man's hands. For his part Francis was having quite the time trying to support the frantic man and not lose the painting.

"Give it back give it back! You can't take this from me! Take all of the others but you can't have this one! You can't take him away from me!"

Feliciano was reaching hysterics, and Francis set the painting down, letting it prop against his leg while moving to embrace the Italian. "Shhh shhh," he cooed out, soothing and soft. With one hand he gently stroked the other man's hair, planting soft kisses on eyes that were leaking tears. The struggling body against him gave out soon enough, Feliciano's energy gone all too soon, and Francis scooped the other up in his arms, to carry him to the bed. He had to start walking very carefully, letting the painting fall against the floor with a soft thud.

"Please big brother… I need him… I…"

"Feliciano," Francis began as he tucked the other back down in bed, smoothing the sheets and the other's hair. He moved to lean over Feliciano, cupping his head gently with one hand as he held his gaze. "You must understand how dangerous it is for you to have that painting, you must know surely?"

"But Francis… I… that's…"

"No. Do not tell me who he is. I must not know." Sighing, the blond ran a hand through his own hair, avoiding the other's eyes now that they seemed so dismal. "I must take it Feliciano." Before the other could object, Francis quickly brought a finger to Feliciano's lips. "It is for your safety, and for his. I do not know who this man is, nor do I wish to. However, if this portrait were to linger with you… if somehow it was found and connected to you… it would be trouble." He didn't need to say or hear that this man was important to the other. It was more than obvious at this point.

He could see the way Feliciano's lip trembled, and Francis's heart went out to the other. "Listen to me… I must take this painting from you… but I promise I shall protect it. I promise not to let anything bad happen to it, yes? Please Feliciano, I do not want to see you get into further troubles…"

The youth on the bed let out a sniffle, then turned hopeful eyes at Francis. "May I come see it… sometimes?"

Francis considered this for a while, before nodding his head yes. "Oh I shall look forward to your visits," he replied, with much innuendo that went completely over Feliciano's head. That was alright though, for today at any rate. Today, for now, he needed to be the nice big brother. Feliciano was too close to breaking at the moment for anything else. No matter his desires, actually physically or mentally ruining someone was not Francis's deal. Far from it. He was a lover, right?

The youth was already falling into a fitful sleep again when Francis moved to pick up the portrait, taking a couple other paintings to hide it on his walk back to his own room. His brows knit in thought as he slipped out the door, and his feet did not immediately carry him onward. _'There's nothing I can do about it… or is there?'_ He shook his head, blond waves dancing about his shoulders as he did so. _'No, there is… I must continue to assist Alfred.'_ Tossing his head, he started to walk back towards his room. Yes, he would pay the other a visit after he got the paintings to safety.

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Lips sucked and tugged on his own bottom one greedily, reluctant to give up their connection to him. A tongue flicked out, caressing into the kiss one last time before the woman pulled away from him. Alfred leaned forward just slightly, following her body away from the kiss, letting his fingers untangle from sweetly sweaty red curls of hair. Fawning hazel eyes were pinned to him with much regret and longing, and what could the blond do but flash that smile of his?

"I hate to see ya go," he said, and though his language would certainly be called coarse and unrefined by some hosts, it was the manner of speaking Alfred was known for. It was all too informal, too carefree. It was the voice of the not-so-accidental heartbreaker. "Stop by and ask for me again anytime."

"I will," the woman murmured, her name already falling out of Alfred's head as he watched her give one last adjustment to her clothes before moving to the door. Upon opening it she was greeted by Toris, who calmly led her away. Alfred let out a sigh which turned to a yawn once he was alone in the room, vaguely wondering if he should look for his shirt but not really caring. He reached over to the low table that sat in front of the plush couch he was sprawled indecently upon, grabbing up a shot glass and tossing it back.

'_Oh man, taking shots in before six o'clock at night, that's a low, right?'_ Ah well, his schedule was shot, it followed the whims of his customers, not the average routine now, right? He slammed the shot glass down with a little more force than necessary, feeling a comfortable heat in his cheeks. How many had he tossed back with that client? Not enough to get him wasted, but more than left him of the mind for counting. He'd definitely drink some water when he got back to his room, that was for sure. His gaze dipped to look at his chest, and he smirked. He'd take a shower, too.

This sure was a life he could get tricked into liking, if he wasn't careful. If his clients never changed that is, if he was always used to entertain women only… Alfred could see how someone could get lulled into thinking this was alright. But no… no! This wasn't the life of a hero, and he reminded himself through his alcohol induced buzz that he was here on a mission. A mission! He needed to keep his priorities straight. He needed to keep trying to gather information… he needed to investigate, and above anything else he _really needed to find a way to contact Arthur and the others!_

"Ready to go back to your room Alfred?" Toris had returned, here to collect the host and take him up to the third floor once again. With a bit of a sway and a giddy snippet of laughter, Alfred rose from the couch and ambled to the brunette's side like an obedient dog. He looped an arm over the shorter man's shoulder, half in camaraderie, and half for support. With all of the drink and his lack of glasses, the world was far from a stable and welcoming sight.

"Yep! You can tell the boss there was another satisfied customer, all thanks to me!" He waved an arm in the air so dramatically it almost sent the two careening into the wall. Toris stopped them to steady them, casting the stairs a wary glance.

"How much did you drink?" He questioned, a bit of concern in his voice. Alfred smirked before tossing up a confident air.

"Not so much that a bunch of stairs will defeat me! Come on!" Snatching Toris's hand, he all but dragged the other man along as he made a dash for the stairs, bounding up them in twos and even threes here and there. Sputtering protests and yelps of fear accompanied his laughing voice, and dimly in the back of his mind Alfred was trying to do another tally on how many shots he'd drunk. Maybe more than he'd previously estimated after all.

His feet came to a stumbling shuffling halt at the top of the staircase, sliding and almost tripping over themselves as he turned about to make sure Toris was ok. The man looked decidedly pale, but otherwise all was well. At a much more reasonable pace, the two made their way to Alfred's room.

"I'll bring up a pot of black coffee for you if you'd like… you have another client later tonight. Unless you wanted to sleep until then?" Alfred scratched at the back of his head, weighing the offer. He gave the other a thumbs up.

"Coffee is good! Thanks man!" A pleasant smile was offered him in return before the two parted ways once again. Alfred really didn't waste any time in heading for his private bathroom, turning the shower on immediately. He could smell the woman's perfume all over him, and while it wasn't unpleasant, it wouldn't do to smell like a past client when meeting a new one. He stripped down, tossing his clothes haphazardly about the tiled floor, before stepping into the spray of water. Rather than letting it hit his back, Alfred stood so it hit his chest instead. The plumbing was good here, and the water was already warming nicely.

He let out a breath, then let his head relax under the stream, the warm liquid rushing over his face. Perhaps a cold shower would have worked to clear his head a bit better, but the heat was heavenly and it unknotted muscles he hadn't even realized were tense. His blond hair grew darker as the water saturated it, plastering down into his face and covering his eyes in playful tendrils. Stepping back from the water so he could breath, Alfred let his head hang forward again so that the water could hit the back of his neck. His blurry vision watched liquid trails snake down his chest, running over and around his abs. He was just about to reach out a hand to steady himself against the wall when his peace was shattered.

"Mmm… such the view…" At the sound of that sultry purr, Alfred's head snapped up, eyes shooting to see a certain blond pervert leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom. The man was staring at him unashamedly from his spot, and though without his glasses the younger couldn't technically see it, he could imagine the lustful face on the perverted creeper.

On pure instinct alone, Alfred tried to scramble back and away, effectively losing his footing on the wet tile and having to flail his arms to keep from cracking his head open. He cursed as he slipped, finding himself sliding down on his rear, his elbows hitting the sides of the shower painfully, legs splaying out and effectively stripping him of both pride and modesty all at once. He growled at the sheer amusement and pleasure he could hear in the chuckle that came from Francis, and when the other man started approaching he flailed and fumbled until he was in a crouch, hands very protectively covering up his crotch.

Slinking forward, the older blond all but radiated an amorous aura. His eyes took on a leering gleam that would have terrified young maidens everywhere. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before, taking a shower together… come… let me help you clean those hard to reach—"

"Francis!" He shouted, cutting the other man off. He tried to glare fiercely at the other, to preserve some of his dignity, but knew the efforts were mostly useless when his cheeks felt like they were on fire. At the very least the other had the decency to stop his words and approach, and Alfred nodded his head at the door. "Out!"

"Aww, but Alfred…" Francis replied, his voice the perfect smooth blend of pleading and seduction. Alfred swallowed hard, reminding himself he needed to stick to his guns here. _'This shouldn't even be a difficult choice anyway!'_

"No! Go! Out! Now!"

"Tsk… as you wish… though you don't know what you're missing…" With a graceful wave of the hand, and of course one more very long look at the naked man in the shower, Francis retreated from the bathroom. Alfred waited until he was certain it was 'safe' before taking some calming breaths. His heart was pounding and his cheeks were still red he knew, and it both pissed him off and left him oddly flustered. As he wrapped a towel about his waist, Alfred once again considered he'd had more to drink than he'd realized. What other explanation was there to what he was feeling now?

This little shock seemed to have him sobered up now at least.

Wrapping a towel around his waist and wishing he had something more substantial to use as a barrier, Alfred cautiously made his way out of the bathroom. As he suspected, Francis was still in his room, lounging on his bed as if he were Cleopatra awaiting her lover. Alfred's grip on his towel only tightened, his shoulders tensing up. "You stay there," he warned the other man, and Francis was content it seemed to recline and observe. Alfred wished his room had a window he could use to pitch the other man out of.

Retreating to his closet, Alfred gathered up a pair of boxers and some comfortable black sweat pants. He actually shut himself into the closet while he put those clothes on, rushing and wriggling in an effort to deny the other man any further sight of his body. It wasn't until he had on his two layers of protection that he started to feel the tension ebb out of his body, and without caring what it was, he grabbed at a t-shirt and pulled it over his head and arms. Feeling safe, he exited the closet, heading for his dresser where his precious glasses perched waiting.

His vision restored and his head feeling alert again, Alfred was ready to face Francis. He hated meeting a challenge with muddy sight and a clouded mind, knowing it made him tense and prone to a certain level of rashness. Granted, he knew most people said he was a rather reckless individual at the best of times anyway, but Alfred knew better. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, blue eyes gleaming and ready to take on Francis now. "So, what the hell are you doing in here, huh? Don't you work anymore or do all the clients just want me now?"

A sly smile crossed Francis's lips, though he didn't move from his sensually relaxed position. "The day you're more popular as a lover than I is the day the world ends." His voice rang with utter confidence and cool smug satisfaction. Alfred was undaunted, however, and gave a mocking laugh.

"You're only more popular because you'll take any client! My standards cut down my possibilities, so really I'm probably more popular than you already if you uh… average it all out!" He gave a satisfied nod of his head, before noticing that the coffee Toris had mentioned was already sitting on the table of his room, ready and waiting for him. He strode over and poured a cup, having no manners with which to offer any to Francis.

With a lazy and almost catlike stretch, Francis shifted on the bed. "Your 'standards' aren't going to matter anymore all too soon, remember? Your days of special treatment are numbered."

Alfred sighed, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of it. Why… why would he have to 'entertain' men too? Couldn't they just hire another person like him or something? Another guy who was awesome and handsome and wild but actually into men? Of course, Alfred knew there was no one out there who was as cool as he was, so in a way the solution he hoped for was impossible. Didn't mean he didn't hope for it though. He took a long sip of his coffee, hating how difficult his mission was being. In the movies infiltrations never took this long. Ever. Not for heroes like him. "Don't remind me," he muttered at last, morose as a pouting child.

There was silence for a few moments between them before Francis shifted once again, rising from the bed and coming to stand well within the man's personal bubble of space. Alfred opened his mouth to quip out an objection to the closeness, and started to protest with a whine when Francis's fingers reached for his coffee cup, liberating it from Alfred's grasp and placing it down on the table. "Hey, what gives man?" His hoped his voice came off more offended than flustered. He was probably hoping in vain.

Francis smiled at him with hooded eyes, reaching out as if to cup Alfred's cheek. Not about to just let the other man molest him, Alfred batted the hand away, moving to take a step back. There was a loud bump and the clatter of dishes as Alfred realized he'd just backed into the table. _'Curse you table, you ally of evil!'_ He cleared his throat and tried to look anywhere but at Francis. The older man's hand snaked out to touch him again, this time just the fingertips coming to hold lightly to Alfred's jaw line.

Francis used this to turn his gaze to him, and Alfred bristled inside as he felt his face flush red. Francis's eyes were doing that thing again though… that stupid look where he seemed less flirty, less promiscuous. _'Don't look at me like that.'_ Alfred watched as Francis let his head fall to the side just slightly, a charmingly subdued smile offered to him. "Alfred," Francis said softly, his voice so very sincere. It made Alfred's breathing hitch for a moment. "Let me help you… let me teach you. I want you to succeed Alfred… please… you do not know how unreasonable the bosses are. They will hurt you if you are not careful. And then? Then…"

Alfred watched as some of the warmth seemed to bleed from Francis's eyes, as the older man averted his gaze. The younger man had the sudden impression there was more to the story here, but his tongue was too tied to ask.

"You cannot be a hero if you die Alfred…" Fingertips rubbed at his skin softly, so very light yet not enough to tickle him. Whatever was going on in the other man's mind seemed to be shuffled aside quickly though, for Francis's smile seemed to become sly and teasing again, a coy expression claiming his face. "Let me help you Alfred… you'll let me help you won't you?"

Francis arched a questioning brow, and Alfred's heartbeat sped up tremendously. A lot of it was just good old fashioned panic and revulsion at the thought of kissing a man (or more god forbid!). Some of it was fear that he really would fail his mission (though of course that fear was fleeting, heroes didn't fail!). What he was loathe to even begin to think, however, was that his heart was racing because of Francis. He balled his hands into fists, warring with his emotions and common sense.

'_The mission… the mission… the mission…'_ He repeated it over and over in his head, steeling his nerves. He'd known this was something that could happen going in, right? He'd said he could handle anything, right? He _could_ handle anything, couldn't he? _'Fuck yeah I can… who am I kidding? I can do it all!'_ Sweeping his doubts away with his ridiculously inflated ego, Alfred reached his conclusion. Time to jump into the deep end. Time to rip the Band-Aid off. He locked eyes with Francis, and gave him his awesome smile.

"Ok." Alfred gave Francis the thumbs up gesture, and the older man looked absolutely pleased with the world.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So much sappiness and angst and stuff, eesh. As you can see, I'm a fan of France in a sort of nice big brother mode as well. I can't help it, even if he's the perviest big bro you can get.

I actually an not happy with the part of this chapter with France and Italy. Not because I think it was bad or anything, but it didn't come out the way I wanted it to. I thought about chopping it out of this chapter over and over (and boy that would have shortened this chapter if I did!), but I had to leave it in because it starts showing some of France's story and motivations. Ugh. Who knows. Maybe the dissatisfaction is all in my head. Hopefully it was ok to read.

Lesse, Arthur's cover name is just something I tossed together pretty quick. Gareth being the name of one of King Arthur's Knights and Doyle of course just being a part of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle's name. For those wondering why Alfred doesn't seem to have a cover name… well, you'll just have to wait.

Next chapter though… next chapter! Finally we get into some actual FrUs action, beginning to creep towards that M rating.


	3. Chapter 3

Ok! This was it! Time to cowboy up, take the big plunge! Alfred's blue eyes shone brightly, intense with determination… until a moment later that determination faltered and wavered.

'_What the hell am I doing?'_ The subversive thought made his palms suddenly feel quite sweaty, and he battled with his head, trying to get it to shut up. How often did people say he was an empty headed idiot? Why couldn't that be true right now? Why was his internal monologue suddenly so chatty when he'd rather it just shut up and let delusion come crawling out for playtime?

'_That's right Alfred, get ready… time for some… for some… oh it's just a little man on man action. Nooo big deal at all!'_ Drawing upon the courage, the boldness, and that 'can-do' attitude he was so well known for, Alfred braced himself. He could do this, it'd be a snap. Seriously, how… how different was it really, if he just broke it down? No breasts… straighter hips… _'Oh, and the completely different junk down below, haha, just a _small_ difference right?'_ He took in a deep breath.

Francis, though still smiling at him, had yet to make a move. He was watching him, and Alfred had the distinct impression the other man was terribly amused. He almost started to frown and pout about it but resisted. Now wasn't the time to let his nerves make him act like a child. Now was… now was practice time. Francis was here… willing to help him learn how to, erm, be with a man. It _couldn't_ be that hard… right? It was just a matter of pretending… yeah… he just would pretend he was with a really… really straight figured woman.

Francis's laughter, soft as it was, snapped Alfred out of the mini daze he'd fallen into. "Well, shall we begin? Or is silently staring while making amusing faces your version of seduction?" The taunt Alfred heard in his voice made him scowl, lips twisting down. Was this a challenge? Because oh… Francis didn't know what he was getting into then! Alfred F. Jones didn't fall back from a _challenge_. Standing up straighter, Alfred reached out to grab the older man's shirt.

"Oh come on, as if anyone has to seduce _you…_" He trailed off for a moment, wondering if he should have said that. He… ok, that sort of made him sound like an ass. It was a low blow, even if Francis really did seem like the type who'd sleep with anyone, any time, and anywhere. _'Hmm, who knows, with the way he is, maybe he'd actually like a little romance turned his way.'_ He paused for a beat, realizing what he'd been thinking. _'Romance from someone not me!'_

What the heck, suddenly considering Francis's emotions? This was all just… it wasn't as if this was supposed to be… well… it was just… this was just a lesson. If he could just think of it like practicing for a football game or something… then maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Just some physical activity, no need to muddy it up with feelings or…

'_Al… shut the fuck up and get on with it.'_ He gave himself a good mental slap and shoved all these thoughts to the side.

Taking in a quick deep breath, Alfred abruptly tugged Francis closer, bringing his lips against the other man's with too much force and far too little finesse. He pressed their lips together, all but mashing them really, his fingers almost cramping they were holding to Francis's shirt so tightly, his body rigid all over. He kept them locked there, lips stuck together and perfectly still. He breathed through his nose in forced little puffs, heating up the skin of their lips and making their faces feel humid and sweaty and, well, gross.

'_I knew it, I just knew it… kissing a guy is no good… oh man how the hell am I gonna complete the mission? I gotta act fast, before they stick me with guys. It's the only way!'_ While of course on some level he knew it wasn't the _best_ kiss he'd ever given… ok not even close… his mind was quick to supply that it was as good as he could possibly do with a man.

Pulling away slightly, and letting go of Francis's shirt, Alfred stared almost defiantly at the other man. It was almost as if he were daring the other to insult him, though he didn't know why. Pride maybe. Putting on a grin that even he could tell was false, Alfred tried to play it off. "Ha, see? No problem, no problem at all. I can handle kissing a guy no problem. Easy… no need for us to continue this uh, lesson…" He broke away into nervous laughter, blue eyes averting away from Francis, who hadn't stepped back at all. The other man's silence, however, was making Alfred a bit nervous. Normally he was oblivious in situations like this… and yet this time it was different. He felt stupidly hyper aware.

Looking back to Francis, Alfred's laughter died away when he saw the other man's face. It wasn't just that Francis looked _disappointed_… it was more than that. The man's eyes were flat, as if he were so disgusted or perhaps frozen in disbelief over how bad the kiss had been. His lips were turned down slightly, parted as if he wished to comment on the lip lock. Alfred looked away again.

"Alfred… _please_ tell me you're not proud of that kiss…" As much as it sounded like sarcasm, what really got Alfred attention was the fact that on some level, it actually sort of sounded like Francis was serious. As if the other man truly thought he was just a terrible kisser! Alfred's cheeks went crimson and he crossed his arms over his chest like a defiant child.

"What, it was fine!" He locked eyes with Francis who merely arched a brow, but in the end he let out a sigh, all his bluster and posturing melting away. His eyes looked rather morose now, his shoulders slumping. Francis's eyes seemed to turn softer at him, which somehow made it easier for Alfred to stop blustering and just… lament. "I know, it was terrible… really really bad. But, I mean, I don't know if I _could_ do better. That'll be good enough, right? I mean… that'd be ok with a client, yeah?"

Francis sighed, reaching up to sweep his wavy hair over his shoulder, an almost pitying look on his face. "Would you pay for such a kiss?" It was a simple question, with a simple obvious answer.

"… no. Oh man Francis, what am I gonna do? Kissing a guy is a lot tougher than I'd thought it'd be!" He didn't really feel the need to say that anything more intense than that would be impossible. _That_ fact lingered in the air, obvious and foreboding. He didn't expect Francis to grin at those words, and when the other blond did just that a tiny trickle of optimism wormed its way back into Alfred's chest.

"Ah but Alfred… did I not say I would teach you?" Francis cocked his head to the side, some of that coyness returning to his smile. "Surely you do not believe I meant I would be a kissing target for you? I do believe your case requires much more work than that…" He laughed at the face Alfred started to make, at the sullen glare being tossed his way. "Fear not, when it comes to love, you won't find a better teacher."

"This isn't… it's not _love_ Francis." Alfred looked down at the ground, brows furrowed unhappily.

Francis let out a soft sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Alfred," he began, his tone low and serious. "Of course this…" he gestured over his shoulder with his hand, vaguely indicating the whole of Gallery Nine. "None of this is love… but in many ways, it is the illusion of it. We sell kisses and company, sex and passion, but we sell _fantasy_ as well. We are the grand deceivers… we must manufacture emotion."

Alfred chewed on his lip, his eyes showing how clearly he struggled with the concept of it all. The hand Francis had on his shoulder reached up, gently beginning to caress and pet his cheek. The touch was light, almost ticklish, and Alfred felt his body shiver. _'Of course, it's freaky having a guy touch me…_' Yet that thought felt a little… untrue… when he stared at Francis. If he didn't know better… if he honestly didn't know better… he'd swear Francis saw him as his one and only… as his true love.

And just like that, suddenly the look was gone. Suddenly the eyes were just mirthful and confident and Francis seemed amused. "I have taken this to an art, no?" His cheeks flushing red, Alfred refused to admit how much he'd fallen for it, how much he'd been made to believe Francis honestly… had… affection for him. "I said I would _teach_ you… not simply help you to become acclimated to the concept. While I doubt you'll ever become as skilled as I, and it shall take more than one lesson no doubt, but… you have your charms… I'm certain we can find something that works for you."

It was a bit of a backwards compliment, but Alfred jumped on it. He'd always been a bit of a glutton for praise and attention. Arthur had tried to tease him, telling him that his exorbitant efforts at pleasing people and earning praise just showed how much of an insecure child he was. Alfred would always deny this. He wasn't insecure. It was just… it just felt good to be complimented; it just felt good to be liked. What was wrong with that? "So… how do we do this then?" Alfred had never been a good student, but the stakes were a bit higher here than just receiving a failing mark.

Francis reached out with his free hand, and gently began to nudge him back towards the table. Alfred looked at him curiously, but the man only smiled at him, those doting eyes staring at him again as if he were a treasure. "Sit back," Francis whispered softly, and Alfred obeyed, making certain not to sit on or knock over the coffee pot. He scooted back just a bit so that his knees were at the edge of the table, staring up at Francis as the other man moved so close to him.

"Close your eyes," the older man said softly. Alfred could swear he felt his heart leap against his ribs as a jolt of worry seized him.

"Wait… why?" He licked his lips. "I… I can't really do much to you if my eyes are closed…" And just like that, his panic got worse. His eyes went wide as saucers. "Wait a minute… you're not going to, _I'm not going to be the one on bottom!_" What the hell? He struggled to sit up, only to feel Francis push back against his chest, a strangely forceful gesture from the man who'd always been content to tease and retreat away.

"Alfred!" Francis's tone showed he was losing a bit of patience, and the younger man shut up. Had he ever seen Francis get pissed off since he'd come here? It subdued Alfred for now, and Francis seemed to relax a bit when he noticed. "Alfred… you know that none of us retain the right to choose our clients, we've all been stripped of the right to say 'no' to any of their whims and desires. We may only cry out if they seek to truly harm us, to break the contract. Otherwise… we have no freedom… we must bend to their desires. _Whatever_ they may be."

Francis gave him a wan smile, his eyes clouding with darkened thoughts and unpleasant feelings. "There are many who would wish to tame a man like you Alfred, there will always be those who desire someone young and strong and handsome to take beneath them. You will be expected to submit. It is, of course, your choice to follow through with our lessons… or to simply find your first time out on the Second Floor. However…" Francis pursed his lips, biting the lower one for just a moment before trying to make his voice lighter, more encouraging.

"I truly do wish to help you Alfred… and I can most certainly teach you so that… no matter your position… your clients will be happy… which will make the bosses happy with you." He let his fingers reach to the younger man's neck, fingertips lightly drinking in the warmth of Alfred's skin. "Please Alfred… this is an ugly road we walk upon… let me do what I can to ease the hardships…"

Alfred felt his pulse racing, and he wasn't certain if it was from Francis's touch, his dire words, or those eyes of his… pleading for Alfred to agree with him. Quite honestly, Alfred was feeling dizzy over all of this, his situation wrapping itself around his thoughts like a coiling snake, sinking in further and further where he could hold no illusions about it. He let out a sigh, reaching up very tentatively to place his hand over Francis's. He gave a ghost of a smile to the other man, and then closed his eyes.

"Please," he whispered, and he was answered by a soothing caress to the soft skin at the nape of his neck. He shivered, feeling the table dip slightly as Francis brought a knee to rest upon it next to one of Alfred's legs.

"Just relax," Francis whispered back, Alfred startled by how close to his ear those words were uttered. He nodded his head slightly, stiffly, knowing that despite his efforts to listen, his body had other ideas. His muscles were rigid, his skin feeling hot from his nerves.

Still, those fingers continued to sooth the skin of his neck, gently petting him, kneading softly at the muscles. The fingers moved slowly, without hurry, as if trailing about and seeking something. Anything. Alfred remained frozen as he was, allowing Francis free reign to explore his neck as he pleased.

A slight tingle touched his scalp as those fingers moved up to trace and trail through his hair. Alfred let out a soft breath, enjoying the almost tickling sensation it caused. As those fingers continued to run through his blond locks, Alfred almost thought he could get comfortable, almost thought he could start to relax to this.

"It is not so different, you see? The touch of a man, is it?" Francis's voice tugged him away from mindlessness, reminding him that this was a 'lesson'. His eyes fluttered, wanting to open, yet he felt Francis lightly touch his eyelids with his free hand. It made Alfred's face flush suddenly, knowing that while he was blind, Francis was watching him, seeing him completely.

"It's… different," he managed to mutter out, feeling stupid for having to say anything.

"Bad?" Francis's voice was calm, curiously lilting. Alfred bit his lower lip for a moment, concentrating again on the feel of Francis's fingers in his hair. The older man's hands were certainly stronger, more firm, and larger than a woman's. They weren't calloused hands, but they were without a doubt masculine. _'But it's not… as gross as I'd thought it'd be I guess.'_

"No, just… different… sort of weird." He seemed to be rewarded for his answer with a gentle caress through his hair, a small pet that was anything but fatherly.

"Good…" Francis purred, though his voice seemed genuinely pleased. Something in Alfred felt lighter, perhaps that lingering childhood need to please waking up to bask in the attention for a moment. His confidence was somewhat restored as well, for so far he wasn't finding it impossible to endure a man's hands on him. Still, so far they were only petting…

The table shifted slightly as Francis leaned forward more, and Alfred stiffened when he felt it. Right on his cheek, prickling it and pressing against it, was Francis's stubble, that sparse beard. The man had leaned in, letting their cheeks kiss, a small slight nuzzle. Alfred frowned, feeling the stiff little hairs poking at his flesh, wanting to reach up to brush them away.

"Couldn't you have shaved that first?" He complained, answered only by a tiny chuckle.

"I am rather fond of it thank you very much… tell me… does _this_ disgust you?" Francis leaned his head towards Alfred, as if to make certain the younger would know it was the stubble he was referring to. Again Alfred had to take a moment to consider.

"No… but it's annoying, I don't like it." It prickled and poked, and though it felt fine so long as Francis didn't nuzzle him against the grain, he knew he'd rather the stubble wasn't there at all.

"Fair enough… fair enough." Again the older man seemed pleased by his words, encouraging Alfred once more.

The table began to shift again, and Alfred felt Francis draw his other leg up from the floor, both of his knees now on the table on either side of Alfred's legs. He took in a sharp breath, heart making a tiny jump as he realized Francis was kneeling over him. Would he sit, would he straddle him? He swallowed quickly, eyelids fluttering again as if he'd open them up. He barely managed to resist and keep them closed, still obeying Francis's request.

Two hands moved to cup the sides of his face lightly, tilting his chin up. On reflex he resisted at first, jerking his chin down stubbornly. No words were uttered at his refusal, no verbal or vocal coaching, just Francis's fingers holding his face gently, tenderly, patiently guiding him upward. Alfred could feel his own fingers trembling, and he pressed them to the table almost fiercely as he steeled his resolve. He tilted his head back, feeling the soft breath of the other man come closer.

Francis's lips met his own, and Alfred held his breath. It was so soft at first he almost wondered if he was imagining it, but the gentle pressure upon his upper lip was certainly not in his mind. The kiss was simple and light at first, Alfred not responding to it yet not finding any sort of sudden urge to vomit coiling up in his mind. As Francis's lips sweetly moved against his own, Alfred's mind wondered over the sensation of it.

The lips weren't as soft and full as many of the women he'd been with. Francis wore no lipstick, no flavored gloss or anything of the like. As the other man kissed him, occasionally he could feel that annoying stubble poking at his chin, like an ever present wakeup call that he was kissing a man.

'_It's really not so… terrible…'_

Could he… do it back?

Francis pulled away for just a moment, taking a small moment to breathe. Alfred again longed to open his eyes, to see Francis's face. That look… if Francis was wearing that look that said he needed him, that he cared for him… that stupidly intimate look… would it make this easier? Tougher? _'Clients won't look at me like that… I… I can't depend on this always being Francis.'_ It seemed to make sense now… why Alfred wasn't allowed to look.

Fingers slipped up along his neck, back and into his hair, and Alfred felt something inside him warm at the sensation. It felt so good, such a simple touch that traced and trailed over sensitive skin. He'd barely had time to sort through the feeling when the lips were back, moving against his and asking in silence for Alfred to respond.

Carefully, tentatively at first, Alfred finally did. He moved his lips, feeling almost immediately the pleased reaction from the other. Those hands in his hair tightened, not painfully, but enough to send tiny pinpricks of heat straight down his neck and to his shoulders. The lips against his pressed closer with a renewed passion, and as Alfred began to suck and pull upon the man's lower lip, he could feel his resistance to this act melting away.

A tongue flicked against his lips, feather light at first before it began to trail with slow yet purposeful strokes. Alfred found his lips parting far faster than he would have thought, jolting for a moment when Francis's tongue slipped into his mouth. For a brief moment he almost expected it to feel different, maybe giant or rough or some other nonsense, but it was nothing so alien or distressing.

Quite the contrary… it was smooth and wet and warm, and it was exploring his mouth with knowing caresses.

Both men broke apart for a moment, gasping in a deep breath of air, before their lips joined once more, mouths parting but seconds later so that they could plunge their tongues forward, explore and taste each other. The experience felt so new for Alfred, yet so blindingly similar and familiar to every other kiss he'd ever had before. Similar but, a dim corner of his mind hesitantly acknowledged, skillfully better.

His pulse quickened, the sound of his heartbeat thrumming through his ears louder than the gasping pants that escaped their noses and mouths as they kissed. He was invigorated and encouraged, emboldened by this. It was a heady mix his mind was swept up in. Not only was he suddenly confident that he could do this, but the kiss that seared across his lips was making him dizzy, almost as if he were drunk. Well, he had been… was he still now?

Such considerations were quickly fleeing from his head. The passion of the kiss smothered his senses, blinding him to the weight that was slowly pressing him back, making him ignorant of the hand that'd come loose from his hair, deaf to the sound of the coffee set being carefully pushed out of the way. Francis's weight was guiding him back, urging him to lie back on the tabletop. Alfred almost had the mind to protest, almost came to his senses enough to question this all, when the older man finally pressed closer.

Francis leaned his weight onto Alfred at last, pinning him down beneath him and sending a jolt of sensation straight up through the younger blond when just for a moment their groins met and rubbed in fleeting friction. Alfred couldn't help it, couldn't stop the tiny muffled groan that breathed up from his throat to his lips. Francis seemed to catch the sound in his own mouth, purring out a response of his own.

Their lips separated, for a moment the only sensation on Alfred's face the silky strands of the man's long wavy blond hair. God he wanted to look up, to open his eyes and see Francis and truly enjoy this! _'Wait… what?'_ No this wasn't right; he was getting too swept up in this… _how_ exactly was this even happening? He tried to clear his mind, taking in slow shallow pants, but the feel of Francis's body above him, it was so difficult to sort this out.

"Francis… I…" he was feeling lost, confused, never a sensation that sat well with him. Alfred's heart fluttered in his chest, emotions warring in his breast. He needed to stop this… he wanted more of this… what did any of this mean… why was this ok? Was this ok?

"Alfred…" Francis's voice was deep, deliciously alluring and filled only with promises of passion and pleasure. It made the younger man's body heat up with want and desire, no matter how much his mind said this wasn't like him. Head and body, perhaps even heart, seemed at odds with each other, none of them knowing which was right. It should be simple… shouldn't it? The heat in his loins, the quickening of his heart and the hunger that had nothing to do with his stomach were clear enough weren't they?

The lips that suddenly sucked and nipped at his neck left only one answer, only a resounding 'yes' as Francis's tongue began to lap and tease and trace at the tender skin just below his ear. He felt the warm wetness trail along the paths of his veins, pressing in firm and deep to toy with the taut muscles under the skin. Alfred let out gasps of pleasure, reaching his hands up to clutch to the back of Francis's shirt.

His shirt? That's right, they were both still fully clothed.

The realization was equal parts maddening and soothing, leading the younger to become bolder, to rake and trail his hands over Francis's back as the man focused on his neck with his tongue. With his hands Francis began to lift Alfred's shirt, and though the impulse was there to stop him, the younger blond found he didn't really want to. Not enough to follow through with the motion.

"Ahh…" the fingers trailing up the skin of his side, those masculine fingers, tickled and felt so wonderful Alfred couldn't help but writhe a little under the touch. He didn't care where they were going, which way they ran over the planes and curves of his muscles, just so long as they didn't stop. The touch was almost searing it was so hot, so electric. Alfred was no virgin, and he'd certainly felt intense pleasure before with his partners but this? This…?

The unknown could thrill as much as it could terrify, and the combination of both those emotions was leaving him all but senseless to understand anything. Never had he really been tempted to let go so completely, never had a woman dominated him to the point of true submission. It was a horrifyingly tempting thought.

"F-Francis!" The feel of a nail grazing over one of his nipples made him jolt upwards, a fast twitch of reflex. Whether he'd enjoyed it or not was lost on him, the feeling so sharp and sudden his body had moved of its own accord.

Lips traveled up from his neck, leaving teasing licking kisses in a trail upwards until Alfred found his lips claimed once more. Tongues battled and danced, for Alfred hadn't given himself to this completely, was too much on the border to fall into passion just yet. Still, with every second that passed and every stroke of a finger, the desire to lose himself seemed more and more appealing.

Slowly Francis rolled his hips forward, slowly bringing his body up and along Alfred's, and the younger man had to moan in response. He wanted this… he—

The knocking at the door almost didn't reach him in his lust induced haze, and it seemed for a moment as if it'd been lost upon Francis as well. The older man continued to grind so tantalizingly slowly upon him, working Alfred up and filling his gut with an urgent desire.

The knocking grew louder, more insistent, and Alfred almost wanted to snarl. As it was he let out a whine when he felt Francis's weight growing lighter, moving away from him. In a panic Alfred opened his eyes, blue gaze meeting blue, before he clutched his fingers tighter on Francis's shirt, keeping him in place. The older man seemed flushed and… confused? Surprised? The look itself threw Alfred off, as the two suddenly stared at each other as if they weren't truly sure just what was going on.

There was passion in their eyes; there was want… there was more? No, should there be more? Should there be anything? Both lips moved as if to speak, when the door was finally thrust open, and a very nervous and worried looking Toris entered the room.

"Alfred, are you in here? Are you alright a—" Green eyes shot wide as the brunette finally noticed the pair on the table, noted the compromising position of the pair. For a moment Alfred just stared back at Toris, baffled about his presence. "W-what… I mean… I… you… that is…" Toris tried and failed to compose himself for a few moments more before his face went cherry red and his fists curled at his sides.

"Francis! I have been looking for you! You have a client coming up in _fifteen minutes!_ What are you d-doing in here?" Realizing that he actually didn't want to know, he hurried on with his reprimands. "Hurry up and come on! She may be one of your regulars but that doesn't mean you can make her wait."

Recovering his wits far faster than Alfred was apparently, the older blond all but slunk his way off of Alfred and the table, his movements fluid and remarkably composed. Striding away from the table and the dazed young man upon it, it seemed as if he hadn't a thing to be ashamed of.

"My night tonight is with the enchanting Ms. Desrosiers, no?" He chuckled as he moved to Toris's side, a smile upon his face and his eyes twinkling with mirth. "If you have prepared the room, there is little for me to do but slip _out_ of my clothing."

Toris let out a suffering sigh, casting a worried glance to Alfred who was still lying back on the table, oblivious to the concern sent his way. Francis as well paused to look at him, his features an all but unreadable mixture.

"Come Toris, I believe Alfred may need some time alone…" The sound of his name stirred him slightly, Alfred shooting a look to the two in his doorway. Mostly he looked to Francis, and the older man gave him an encouraging grin. "You did wonderfully… truly…" As condescending as those words could have been said, Francis said them in such a gentle way that Alfred couldn't find it in him to grow upset. Truthfully… he couldn't seem to find the presence of mind to feel anything.

His door was shut… he was left alone… and for the span of many minutes, he did nothing but lie on the table staring blankly at the ceiling.

It hit him of course, it _had_ to. It couldn't happen until his heart had calmed and his breathing slowed, but when it struck it was enough to whip him up into frenzy once more. He bolted upright, eyes flaring wide and face staining red.

"What the fuck just happened?" He didn't quite yell it, but it was no whisper. The words strangled out of his throat, hot and incredulous and just as dumbfounded as the rest of him. A hand was slapped up to his hair, roughly shoving his bangs back and out of his face, as if he could somehow find some sort of mental clarity that way.

Seriously… seriously… had that really just happened? He all but leapt off the table, taking to pacing through his room like a wild beast, his blue eyes wide and sharp enough only to keep him from running into anything. His lips moved to form words and phrases that never found voice, and the tremor in his fingers gave away just a fraction of his abused nerves.

Part of him wanted to just vehemently deny everything that had just happened. It'd been a dream, no no no, a _nightmare_, and he was going to wake up and be… be…

"Shit!" If he woke up he'd only still be here, and still be in this predicament which would only mean this situation could still happen. "Oh god…" he breathed, his voice breaking in a way that he knew was non-heroic but that he couldn't exactly stop. His stomach churned, and though it wasn't enough to send him sprinting to the bathroom, Alfred began to feel faint and sick.

He collapsed to his bed, turning over and over before a restless energy in his gut forced him to sit up, draping his legs over the side. He reached up and fisted at his hair, tugging at it enough to hurt, but nothing so terrible as to yank chunks out. He shook his head as he held it, mind replaying for him the scenes from the table, taunting him with his responses and actions.

He had not, he knew, behaved entirely like a straight man being forced into sex with another male. _'Oh shit…'_ He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feeling a horrible restricting weight pressing on his chest, a cold lump sitting in his throat.

He didn't want to deal with this… what the hell was this? This was a job! This was a mission. This wasn't some sort of fucking retreat for finding out his sexuality! "I've gotta complete my mission… I've gotta complete my mission…" He began to whisper it hoarsely like a mantra, anything to block out the horrid suspicion about why he'd dealt with their little lesson so very well.

"This place, this place is doing this to me… this place is making me… it's… I'm not… that is..." Oh god heroes didn't hide behind excuses, but Alfred couldn't own up to this, he couldn't face it. He dropped his hands to his sides, eyes shooting wide and staring straight ahead in a desperate and fevered determination.

"I'm cracking this case tomorrow… no more delays." Without anyone there to tell him to cool his head, to berate him and demand he not do anything rash, Alfred's mind declared he'd be springing into action. You could hardly say he was proceeding with his eyes open, the phrase 'look before you leap' wasted upon him. He stared at the wall in front of him, chewing at his lower lip and trying to remind himself that people and places couldn't just turn you well… gay.

Though maybe that thought was more comforting than the possible alternative.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Francis usually adored Nicole Desrosiers's visits. Not only was she a gorgeous woman of midnight black hair and sensuous curves, but her whims and fetishes were truly deliciously similar to his own. The woman's adoration of roses rivaled his, and their sessions together were a florist's paradise. How many women would respond so passionately to a man clad only in a strategically placed rose? How many understood how the flowers could be such a heady and heavenly perfume, how perfect it was to make love surrounded in?

The woman was always a true pleasure, always someone whom Francis could hardly consider a client for all that he foolishly looked forward to having the chance to share himself with such a lady.

It was so strange to him, then, when he could not seem to keep his mind to her, could not seem to find the same passion for her as he typically did. Even as he brushed the petals of a rose along her creamy white breast, dusting it as if he were a painter and she the canvas, was his attention painfully worlds away from her. Her cooing words of French were not the music to his ears they normally were, no matter how seductively he whispered back to her in the same tongue. Oh he was certainly aware enough to know just where his mind was… the question was… why?

He'd done this before… he'd coached and coaxed and eased new Hosts into the full breadth and width of their lives here. Men and women, those who'd been more fluid in their sexualities or more rigid than Alfred… as cheap as it made him sound, Francis had worked with nearly all types. The turnover wasn't massive with the Hosts, but it was enough that he'd known his fair share or fellow 'entertainers'.

Yes, he always came to care for them… how could he not? In a strange way they became family, little brothers or sisters, comrades in arms and the only caring support any of them would find. They always had each other, could always rely on each other for comfort.

Alfred was proving strange, and it worried Francis.

He would apologize profusely to Nicole later for the way his thoughts strayed away from her during this session later, but for now Francis's body truly seemed to be on autopilot. Even as he moved within her, even as he responded and reacted to each and every breathy note and request she made of him, he couldn't help but think of Alfred.

'_It is because… for once… I have seen hope. There is a light he brings with him… a promise of freedom not only for myself but for all of the others…'_ Yes… it was that small burning flame of possibility, of opportunity, that must have caught Francis's attention. Never had he ever seen a way for this to end. He'd not sought it out, but now that it was here? Blinding his eyes? How could he _not_ want to fan the flames? How could he not want to dive into them if it would only help to bring down the Gallery and the horrible men who ran it?

To think, Feliciano could go home to the man of his portrait, to think Berwald could be reunited with the wife he spoke (well, muttered) so fondly about! His mind raced over the other Hosts, from the gorgeous blond from Belgium to others… yes yes… even if Francis could have found a perverse sort of happiness here, the others all deserved their lives back!

The Gallery could blind you, could warp who you were and leave you stupid from passion, but nothing could truly wash away the former lives of the Hosts. There was a world outside they'd been stripped from… and though he was stupid and foolish and terribly impetuous, Alfred had charged in here to do just that.

It was absurd, and Francis knew he was much too old to be swept away thinking childish thoughts like this, but deep down he truly was hoping that Alfred was the hero he kept claiming he was.

Even if Francis needed to coach and coax and groom him into that knight and shining armor personally.

The thought of freedom, of Alfred opening the doors of the Gallery wide for them to escape from, filled Francis with that doting warmth again, which he displaced for now upon the breathless and sated Ms. Desrosiers. As he wrapped his arms about her, cuddling and petting her and coming down from the physical pleasure they'd shared, he whispered words of endearment he knew he meant for someone else.

Surely it was only hope that made his heart beat so quickly around Alfred, surely he… _Francis_… was not losing his heart to some immature young man. There was certainly no time requirement for falling in love in his book… but was this really what this was? A smile tugged at his lips, wistful before he hid it away with a kiss to Nicole's lips. It'd been so very long since he'd felt love for someone, emotions deep enough to truly warm his heart and make him seem foolish as a slave to _amour_.

Though more willing to embrace the truth than a certain other blond at this point, Francis could tell that his affection did not run that deep for Alfred. _'Ah but it could if I'm not careful…'_ It was such an absurd thought when he considered the younger man, yet love was love, was it not? He would have to be careful in their future lessons, lest he forget himself, lest he do something to risk that freedom Alfred could bring.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

A thousand apologies for how long this chapter took to write. I'll save the excuses, they're all irrelevant to ya'll anyway. I do promise everyone this though: No matter how long a chapter takes me, please be assured I am very devoted to my fics and (though I don't have any fics on my account to prove this yet), complete all the ones I start.

As an additional apology, the proofing of this fic was a bit rushed, I apologize if the typos are greater in number than they should be.


	4. Chapter 4

Gallery Nine was certainly a different looking beast during the day. No music throbbing through the first floor club, no rainbow dance of lights painting all over. The slick architecture still left the exterior with an alluring appeal. Even when not drawing in the clubbing crowd, there was still something about the building that screamed 'come to me' or 'you want me' or even 'let me show you what real pleasure is'. Arthur didn't think a building should rightly be able to project such an aura, yet Gallery Nine did.

All while covering up its dirty little secrets like the painted whore it was.

Taking in a deep breath Arthur smoothed out his clothes. He knew there was no reason to be nervous about his appearance; he didn't suppose that it was a requirement for clients to be overwhelmingly attractive. However, as before, his clothing had been very carefully bugged. That… ah… that is… ah yes, Alfred's brother had very carefully worked the small bugs into the seams and folds of the clothes again, and even should he be forced to remove his coat, there would still be a functioning wire on him. Very clever fellow with surveillance equipment that… Matthew was.

Striding up to the door, he remembered the drill from when he'd come to drop off his application. He knocked on the solid wood that Arthur suspected was reinforced with metal on the inside of it all and waited. Soon enough a slot in the door opened, revealing an aggravated pair of eyes and nothing more. _'If I didn't know that there was another guard, I'd call that a rookie mistake, just opening up the slot. Well, that and the outdoor camera on me already.'_ Arthur shoved aside his professional thoughts and popped a meek grin to his face. One he hoped looked appropriately hopeful and nervous.

"Ah yes… I'm Gareth Doyle… I have an appointment here today, about the second floor?" He knew from past experience that if he didn't speak up, the man on the other side would merely stare at him until he did. Or slam the slot in the door shut. The man didn't take his gaze off of Arthur, but no doubt the other guard was looking at the appointment list and the information on the cleared visitors. Arthur counted his breaths while he waited, staying alert and trusting his team to react if, for some reason, something when sour right now. He'd been called back for his preparatory meeting… where he'd discuss what he wanted and negotiated a price.

It could mean he was clear in their books… or it could have been a lure to get him. They may have figured out his true identity. Arthur would simply have to trust Antonio was as good at his undercover operations as everyone said he was. Another slot in the door opened, lower, and Arthur fumbled with his wallet, pulling out Gareth's license and passing it through the slot. More time elapsed; tense seconds stretching across Arthur's nerves.

The door was at last opened, and Arthur's body shifted in readiness, internally wishing he had a weapon. Sadly, there was simply no good way to conceal one at the moment, not if he was thoroughly searched. The guard ushered him inside, and in a series of grunts indicated he was to raise his arms. A metal detector was passed over him carefully, hands patting him down carefully and with trained precision. No, there was no sneaking a weapon in here. Not without being creative in a manner that would be highly uncomfortable. The bugs were just plastic enough to escape detection.

"Upstairs, come on," said the guard, returning his identification and motioning with his head for Arthur to follow. Arthur smiled politely and did so, his green eyes sweeping over the look of the club with great interest. Without any dancers in it he could see the layout remarkably well, and he tried to drink in every single detail he could. Any doors, any passages, any blind spots or possible points of concealment were vital to find as soon as possible. If things turned to a raid, this would be valuable information to have indeed. _'Or, if I must make a hasty retreat from this meeting of course…'_ It was best to be ready for the worst.

The table he'd first inquired about the second floor at was empty, and he was led to a room just a short ways down the hall. The guard knocked a short series of five taps, Arthur memorizing the pattern and storing it away immediately. Of course he continued to try to mask his keen interest in everything around him, and certainly kept his glances further down the second floor hallway as discreet as he possibly could. How wonderful would it have been though, to catch a glimpse of Alfred right off? It was early though, only eight in the morning. Arthur doubted there'd be too many patrons coming in at this time of the day for pleasure.

There was no reply from inside, but the guard opened the door and stepped aside so that Arthur could enter. The room was very small, a simple office affair. It was warm and inviting, with a plush plum colored carpet covering the floor and tall potted fronds in each of the corners. There were no windows (Arthur regretfully noted), though beautiful yet generic paintings served as decoration. There were no file cabinets and no desk, but at the heart of the room was an antique yet well maintained coffee table. A loveseat rested facing the table and away from the door, while a leather armchair sat opposite.

The blond who'd greeted him sat in that chair, painting his nails and staring at Arthur with a rather sardonic smirk. He blew on his nails for a moment before waving Arthur in, and after just a few steps the door was closed behind him. The guard wasn't still in the room, but Arthur doubted he'd go even a foot away from the door. It wasn't difficult to surmise that Arthur was to sit on the loveseat, and without further ado, he moved and did so even if having his back to the door made his insides churn.

There was a manila file folder on the table, along with a tea setting. There was also a pitcher of iced water with a couple of glasses. It was all rather hospitable really.

"So like, I guessed you'd want tea or something since you sound all Brittishy and stuff." The blond crossed one leg over the other, the propped leg bouncing and bobbing in front of Arthur. The hospitality with the tea aside, the wagging appendage was going to drive Arthur crazy if it continued. His hands all but twitched with the need to reach out and grab it still. He stared at the other blond's green eyes with great determination, trying to ignore the aggravating motion.

"That's very kind of you… ah…" He trailed off, having no name to address the man with. Unfortunately his pause did not prompt the man to offer up a name, the other instead going back to painting his nails with a clear coat of polish. The first coat had apparently been pink with glitter in it. At least today the male's attire seemed mostly appropriate for someone of the masculine persuasion. "I don't believe I've gotten your name…" Perhaps this would encourage the other to introduce himself at last.

The other blond arched a brow, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. Arthur hated the expression the man seemed to live in, as if he was both an utter idiot yet thought he knew more than you, as if he could see through you yet blatantly was only thinking about himself and what he felt like talking about.

"Hmmm…" The man across from Arthur drew the sound out, as if this was actually something to debate over. With a small move of his head he tossed his hair out of his face for a moment, the long locks simply sliding back into place a moment later. "You can so totally call me like, Poland!" The man started to laugh, and at Arthur's rather dumbfounded expression (he certainly didn't need to feign this emotion), the man simply snickered and laughed even more. "It's like, an inside joke."

Arthur stared at him, struggling to keep his temper in check here. _'Calm down Arthur… remember what you're doing. Gareth Doyle wouldn't get angry at this… Gareth Doyle is simply desperate for a shag… yes yes… focus on that now…'_ His lips stretched… was he smiling? If he could force a smile when Alfred was being an idiot, he could do it in front of this idiot as well. "Mr. Poland… then…?" He was hopeful the man would correct him with an _actual name_, even if it was simply a pseudonym. Sadly, his hope was wasted.

"Just Poland, 'Mr. Poland' so totally makes me sound like some old man." Arthur tried not to sag. _'Well… it makes sense I suppose… without a name, I can't possibly research this man's background.'_ Regardless, Arthur knew to proceed with caution. If Gallery Nine forced the employees to use a false name, they were obviously always on their guard.

Twisting the cap back onto his nail polish, 'Poland' sat forward, snatching up the manila folder. He opened it up and gave it a quick glance over that told Arthur clearly that the man had already memorized the contents and that the perusal was simply for show. Idly he wondered how much of this 'interview' was for show as well. Arthur sat up straight to attention all the same. The man brought the folder up high enough so that only his eyes peeked over the top. "So Mr. Doyle… aren't you so totally excited? You get to meet a host and have all your fantasies come true."

Arthur nodded eagerly, trying to slide more and more into his role. Keeping up a consistent character was key here, so at the apparent realization that he was acting very eager, 'Gareth' suddenly looked rather embarrassed with himself, dipping his head down in shame. There was snickering from behind the folder, which either meant Arthur was pulling it off or Poland found his acting that laughable. "Y-Yes… thank you for accepting my application."

"Sure sure," the man replied casually, and Arthur bit back his comments about his attitude carefully. "Like, we don't just accept _anyone_… but that also means that we treat the ones we do like, super amazing. You'll be so totally satisfied with your visit, for sure."

Arthur simply gave the man a hopeful smile, trying to follow his lead.

"Anyways, I've never failed to like, pick the perfect host for someone. I'm awesome at reading people, so like, don't worry, I can _so totally_ see right through you." Flat green eyes locked onto Arthur's own, and for just a moment he felt his blood pressure shoot up. Arthur wasn't going to show his hand here, but suddenly he got the impression that this seemingly frivolous man just may be more dangerous than he'd first judged. _'Arthur you idiot, he's their first line of defense! Of course he's not just an airhead.'_ A dangerous smile crept across the man's lips, all but screaming at Arthur, all but taunting 'I know who you _really_ are' at him.

Arthur kept it cool… on the outside at least.

"You're so totally gay. Gay and a total bottom." The words were punctuated with the waggling of eyebrows.

The triumphant statement caught Arthur off guard, causing his mouth to drop open like a stupid fish. He stared at the man blankly while his head's expectations attempted to resolve with what had actually just happened. Here he'd thought the operation was blown and instead… instead… this? That's all he'd meant? That he could tell Arthur was gay, and submissive at that? _'Wait one minute! I'd most certainly be on the top! I mean d-damn it!'_ His face turned crimson at the insinuation, though his anger and outrage was mistaken by the other as acute embarrassment. The other laughed while Arthur sputtered.

"No need to get so worked up, it's like… way ok, ya know? We get all kinds here, and we cater to like, everyone! So it's totally cool." Poland waved his hand in the air, as if to dispel the awkward air about them. Arthur cleared his throat, drawing in a fierce breath through his nose and fighting for composure, all the while reminding himself that presenting himself as gay and, well, submissive, was possibly the only angle he could play to get an appointment with Alfred. Not that Alfred and gay had ever been connected in Arthur's mind before… but who knew just _what_ his childhood friend was dealing with in here.

Poland seemed to sober up a bit, smiling away. "You can relax, seriously. I've been doing this since Gallery Nine opened and I've _never_ not picked the perfect host for someone. So chill, kay?" The words, if you subtracted the tone they'd been said with, were probably meant to be comforting. Arthur sat back in the loveseat and nodded. It looked like it was business time at last.

"Right, so. Gay, yes?" Poland arched his brows, waiting expectantly for his 'brilliant' conclusion from before to be confirmed. Grudgingly, Arthur nodded his head.

"Yes… or at least… I think so…" He averted his eyes, trying to look properly sheepish.

"Oh… one of those. That's fine, you can so totally figure out if it's time to bail from the closet here. We get that sometimes… curious people. So you're like… a virgin down there and stuff?"

Arthur's cheeks flamed red. _'A virgin 'down there' and bloody well going to stay that way!'_ Internal tirade aside, he was careful to keep his voice soft. "Yes… that won't be a problem will it?"

He could hear the sound of a pen scratching against paper, his interviewer writing on a paper in the folder. The man just shook his head, shrugging it off. "Nope, like, weren't you listening? We get all sorts, we're ready and stuff. You'll just have to sign an extra waiver because like… you know, butt sex can so totally hurt the first time."

Arthur simply didn't have the words to respond to such a statement. He truly didn't. _'I'm going to be exhausted after this interview… who knew someone could tax my head more than Alfred?'_

"Mmk, so… we're looking for a guy to pop your cherry… umm… prefs? Like, hair color, body type, eye color, etcetera…?" The pen was held at the ready, and Arthur took a moment to scratch pleasantly at the back of his hand.

"Well, I mean… I don't suppose I have a set type… I… you don't have pictures I could look at?" Searching for Alfred aside, the possibility of confirming the visual identity of some of the hosts would be invaluable. Sadly, a shake of Poland's head told him that once again Gallery Nine was not so foolish.

"Sorry. But don't worry, we have all types! And like I said, I'm like, totally perfect at matchmaking. Just tell me what you feel like, I'll get it right." The man certainly seemed confident about that.

Folding his hands in his lap, Arthur considered his options here very carefully. Now of course he knew it'd be suicide to perfectly describe Alfred. That was obvious. The trick was trying to find the right balance of traits that would give him the best odds of meeting up with his old friend. First he'd start with harmless traits… generic enough ones that'd been asked for specifically.

"I… I do prefer blonds… and though perhaps it's a bit cliché… I do think blue eyes suite blonds the best. Perhaps because I don't have them…" He looked at Poland who was simply scribbling down his answers. "Body type… well that is… well… perhaps someone fit?"

The other blond didn't look up from his writing. "Taller than you?"

"I suppose… yes… that could be nice…" Was the man leading him here? Arthur remained cautious.

"Like, are you into younger guys?" There was just enough interest there that Arthur knew to back off a bit. He gave a slight shrug.

"Ah, I don't suppose it would matter too much… that's more something I would consider for… well… not for this." It wasn't a yes, it wasn't a no. He was pleased at his vagueness there. The other man kept on writing, and Arthur couldn't help but wonder at how he seemed to be getting paragraphs out of his very simple answers.

"Well, do you want someone wild? Someone careful? Like, give me a personality here." Poland stopped his writing and fixed his green eyes directly to Arthur's. The undercover agent knew he couldn't hesitate too much here, but this would be difficult. To describe Alfred without describing _Alfred_. Arthur knew well enough that even at his best, Alfred's acting wouldn't have given him a complete personality make-over.

"Well… confident… someone… well, bold perhaps. He doesn't have to be 'wild' as you put for it will be my f-first time and all but… I… do not want to have to make the first move. A… a vibrant person…" There was one more trait to ask for that he thought may be safe, staying away from such easy 'give-aways' as 'heroic' or 'cocky' or even 'talkative'. His next request was generic enough, a trait many people looked for. "I'd like him to have… a nice smile." Possibly it was too much… but he kept his voice as casual as possible.

Poland scratched his pen against the paper again, bringing it up at last to chew on the end with a thoughtful hum. Arthur waited as the other man's eyes remained glued to the papers in the folder for a bit. At last he seemed satisfied, for he suddenly whipped the folder around, displaying the contents for Arthur to see. Needless to say, the agent's jaw dropped.

"Like, what do you think? It's the best pony I've drawn _ever_!" Yes indeed, there scribbled on a blank sheet of paper was a rather poorly drawn pony-shaped blob, surrounded by flowers and… rainbows? Arthur lost his composure yet again, staring at Poland and seriously wanting to throttle the man. Had he been taking anything in this seriously? Could Arthur have been sitting here asking for a purple haired Cyclops and gotten the same responses?

Before he could do anything, the man stood up, smirking away and gesturing for Arthur to rise. Numb as he was Arthur obeyed; shocked when suddenly a different paper was pulled out from behind the pony sketch. It was both an appointment schedule as well as a bill. Perfectly painted nails graced the top of his shoulder as he was guided towards the door.

"So like, that's the time and date we've reserved for you, just a few days away. If it doesn't work for you you'll need to tell me now so we can reschedule it. For like, your bill," A sparkling pink nail tapped at the written down amount. Arthur's eyes nearly bulged at it, but he knew that the Gallery was expensive. "That's the amount you need to post to the account provided by tonight. Ok? Like, if the funds don't get there before your appointment you'll be totally in trouble."

Arthur was about to respond when suddenly there was a loud noise above them. He jerked his head up to look at the ceiling, Poland doing the same. For a moment the two men remained mute, staring at the ceiling and listening to the frenzied commotion above them. Arthur's blood ran cold. In his line of work he'd heard such sounds before… he'd heard the sounds of a fight, of a struggle. It took all the willpower he had in his body not to charge out of the room, try to get up to the floor above them. Without a doubt, that had to be Alfred! Arthur just _knew_ it!

Hands started to push at his shoulders, Poland trying to urge him out of the room. He looked over his shoulder at the man, surprised by the serious look that hadn't quite been wiped away yet. "Oy… what was that sound? What's going on?"

"It's nothing, just chill." Arthur wasn't about to be brushed off that easily.

"I'll have you know that as a customer, I have every right to inquire on this! If this establishment isn't safe…" Poland started to wave an aggravated hand at him, his smirking mask slipping back on as Arthur was still shoved to the door.

"Like, a bookshelf probably fell. Don't worry about it. We're totally safe." Arthur had no more room to protest over that lie, for the door was reached and the burly guard was escorting Arthur away in seconds. Flustered and annoyed, Arthur strained his ears, hoping for some sort of encouraging sound. All he got instead was Poland's voice calling after him. "Like, remember… I _totally_ always hook the right people up! You can count on it!"

Arthur doubted this highly. There was nothing else for it though, for he found himself outside and under the sunny morning sun. _'Well… bollocks.' _He'd gotten his appointment at any rate. Striding away from the Gallery towards his car, he carefully avoided even glancing at the convenience store where no doubt his fellow agents were watching him. There was no need to give them a signal of any sort; with the bugs on him they'd at least heard everything. Embarrassing as that conversation had been, he'd put a call to them once he returned home to go over their plans in the interim of his appointment.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Alfred had risen early this morning, which was quite a feat considering how long his appointment had run last night. Still, his resolve hadn't wavered a bit (or was it he hadn't grown any less desperate? He chose to go with strong resolve, more heroic), thus he was committed to cracking this case here and now. It wasn't like he'd wasted his six or so months here, he'd _been_ snooping… but he just hadn't gotten anywhere where he had conclusive evidence to present to a court of law. The proof that he needed to get to make this mission a success, he'd finally get some at last.

Today it was time to be bold, today it was time to take all the surveillance he'd been sneaking, all the schedule memorizing he'd been trying to do, and all the chumming up to the staff he'd engaged in and put it to good use. He rose early, took a quick shower to get his mind working, then tossed on some workout clothes; a simple cotton tank top… a soft pair of knee length shorts… and importantly his well worn and not squeaky running shoes. He was off to the gym, nothing suspicious there at all, right? So his clothes were comfortable, quiet, and easy to move in. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Casual as he could be, Alfred sauntered towards the private third floor gym (sauntering was casual in his book). The clear glass door let him see inside very easily (and had always allowed him to see _out_ just as nicely). There it was, his favorite treadmill, in all its conveniently pointed at the door glory. Man he'd spent a good number of hours on that treadmill, building up his cardio while getting a great view of the movements on the third floor.

Stepping inside, Alfred was a little surprised to find that he wasn't alone. There were already a couple of gym occupants, which wouldn't really throw a wrench into his plans. Berwald wasn't the sort of guy who'd go saying things he shouldn't (considering he rarely said more than a couple words together at a time), and Feliciano… well.

The naïve little chatterbox wasn't quite as naïve as he was supposed. Alfred would rely on the Italian's never dying desire to get out of the gallery to keep that tongue of his from spilling anything troublesome. Besides, listening to Feliciano's escape attempts had given him good information, even if he hadn't come clean to the other as he had with Francis. He gave the pair a hearty wave, suppressing a smirk at the sight. Was Feliciano seriously trying to bench press? It was only the bar and a light weight but… still. At least Berwald was there spotting him. The poor guy was struggling like crazy.

"Yo Berwald! Feliciano! How many reps ya at?" He received grunts from both men actually, Berwald's probably meant to convey the number one and Feliciano's, well… that was just a grunt of exertion. Letting the Italian off the hook, Berwald's hands closed about the bar, easily lifting the weight from Feliciano and settling it back to the metal holder of the bench. A word of thanks was cast up, and the tall blond simply nodded his head, expression serious as ever.

Climbing atop the treadmill, Alfred adjusted his glasses, looking Feliciano over. He'd heard about his injuries, and it was good to see the other up and attempting some exercise. Alfred wasn't worried about getting injured himself of course, hell no. He was an agent, after all. He wasn't afraid of pain, he wasn't afraid of getting injured in the line of duty. But, so far as Alfred knew, all the hosts here were just regular civilians. Seeing any of them harmed just fired his blood hotter, made him more determined.

"Ve… I think I'm going to go lie down now…" The Italian grabbed up a towel, wiping his brow and smiling at the two blonds in the room. "Thanks again for helping me Berwald! Let's all spend time together sometime soon!"

With that, the gym was down to two occupants. Alfred started up the treadmill, setting at a medium speed and a mild incline just for warm ups. Berwald took to doing some free-weight bicep curls. The gym fell silent save the sound of the treadmill and Alfred's footsteps. It was a comfortable enough silence, and it gave Alfred plenty of opportunity to do what he'd come here for: watch for the tiny window where he could make a break for the fourth floor.

"G'd l'ck…" Alfred almost didn't realize Berwald had spoken to him, and even then it took him almost a full minute to translate out the mumble. Blinking his eyes at the other and struggling not to misstep on the treadmill and go flying backwards, Alfred was surprised to notice that Berwald was getting ready to leave. He'd been watching through the glass so intently, it seemed more time had passed than he realized.

A sober, scrutinizing gaze was radiating off of the other man, and Alfred had the unpleasant feeling of being looked through. The agent had never come clean to Berwald about his real purpose here, so the comment caught him off guard a bit. Had Francis been blabbing to the other hosts about him? No… Francis seemed to want him to really succeed… so he wouldn't be stupid enough to risk telling others. Maybe Berwald had figured it out on his own? _'Oh that'd just be great!'_ He gave a mental eye roll at the thought. Maybe he was being wished luck on his workout?

"B' caref'l…" Ok, treadmills were dangerous (and spawned a few hilarious internet videos), but they didn't warrant someone telling him to be careful! Though Alfred smiled his hero's smile back at Berwald, he felt a sinking despair hit his stomach. Yet another reason to finish his mission today… too many people were on to him!

"T-Thanks…" The two exchanged nods, though once alone Alfred cursed low under his breath. He was tempted to turn the speed up higher on the treadmill so that he could sprint off some of his frustration at himself, but held himself back. If he wore himself out now it'd be dangerous when he went to the fourth floor. He couldn't be exhausted. _'Still… it should be about time for it… come on, where are you?'_ His eyes peered out intently, shining behind his glasses. Each thud of his feet on the treadmill seemed like a horrible countdown, ticking away his chances at success.

"There he is…" Alfred whispered, finally seeing a suited guard walk very discretely past the glass gym door. The two spared a pleasant smile back and forth. There wasn't anything special about that guard in particular; it was only what his passing signified. Right now Alfred had about a two minute window to get up those stairs before the new guard's patrol would lead him by the stairs again. It was a tiny shift change, a miniscule margin to work with. He'd in the past judged it too slim…

… but no chance was too small today! Punching the off button on the treadmill Alfred leapt off the machine quickly, stumbling a little on the solid non-moving ground before dashing quickly through the glass doors and towards the stairs. In his head he began to count the seconds, timing himself as he made his break. For as fast as he was running, his steps were as close to silent as you could get. Just because he normally made a ton of noise in everything he did didn't mean he _couldn't_ be quiet. It was time to be serious here, after all. Stealth was key. As it wasn't something that came naturally to the blond, he worked at it even harder.

His feet hit the bottom of the staircase to the fourth floor, and with a swift glance over his should Alfred started up. He trained his eyes to the ceiling, peering for the familiar red dot of a hidden camera. If he hadn't been snooping so much, and looking for one specifically, he never would have found it. As it was, Alfred carefully moved and positioned himself to avoid the lens's wide frame. Swiftly lunging up the last few steps Alfred leapt forward and with a roll suited for the movies came to a crouch by a small potted plant. Maybe the roll wasn't exactly necessary, but it made him feel cool so there ya go.

'_Sweet… step one completed, the fourth floor has officially been reached.'_ His adrenaline was pumping, his spirit singing and soaring, filling him with a feeling he hadn't realized he'd lost. All this time, getting drawn into the feel and flow of Gallery Nine… he'd forgotten how good it felt to _actually_ actively do work like this. He missed getting to do busts, missed physically bursting in or snooping about to stop the 'bad guys'. It almost made him cringe just how much he'd been distracted from his work, the more he thought about it. _'Well, no more, no more. I'm on target again now.'_

Swiftly he moved to the first door he reached in the hall, his eyes sweeping about constantly, looking for both hidden cameras and guards on patrol. Carefully he tried the door, not at all surprised to find it was locked. He would have been more on alert if he'd easily breezed inside. Debating the importance of this door, and wondering if he should go deeper into the fourth floor, Alfred hesitated. He didn't have a lot of time before the guard patrols would sweep past here, and there was always the chance of one of the bosses passing by. Loitering about wasn't an option. Even if it was something small, if this room held some evidence it'd greatly speed up his expedition up here.

However… Alfred didn't want to take a chance on _not_ getting something absolutely conclusive. If things went truly wrong, this could be his only crack at the fourth floor. Anything he gained from up here had to be solid. It had to be absolute irrefutable evidence that Gallery Nine was up to no good. It needed to be the blade that would slice through the thick hide of this monster, the sword that could cleave into the belly of this beast.

'_I have some time… another door.'_ Quickly he darted forward, keeping to the walls, always scanning and listening. He was truly in his element here, his body moving with ease and confidence. Alfred hadn't risen through the ranks purely through flashy heroics and over the top gun fights. That sort of thing didn't often lead to promotions. No, he took his work, his 'heroing', dead serious.

A pungent smell caught his attention by a new locked door, and Alfred crouched down by it. He sniffed carefully, nostrils registering the faint traces of something sweet and smoky. It tickled at his nose as much as it did his memory, and his brain worked feverishly to identify it. It was certainly not perfume, no, but it was a smell he should know. It was a smell he'd been exposed to from work, one he'd been trained to look out for quite some time ago. _'Opium?'_ It was a good possibility, and Alfred decided _this_ was his door.

Reaching to the band of his shorts, he drew out a small hairpin and a paperclip. Hey, you collected what you could when you were all but a captive. Kneeling down, Alfred set to work on the lock, ear pressed close to the door as he listened and felt for the tumblers to give. He tried to keep his breathing even and low, kept it quiet as he could. Splitting his attention between the lock and listening for footsteps was a bit unnerving, but it was the sort of stress Alfred could run and thrive on.

"Yes! Awesome!" The lock gave, and Alfred very carefully turned the knob. He cast a glance down the hall, hearing the telltale sounds of steps and crept inside the room. Very cautiously, silently, he closed it again, taking feather light steps back. The smell was stronger here, sweeter and more pungent. His eyes stung slightly, the smoky haze in the room not terribly thick but enough to tickle at his throat and lungs. He brought a hand up to his nose, covering it as he listened to the guard continue past the room.

He let out a small sigh of relief, and turned around. While he'd been expecting some sort of store room, some sort of space lined with drugs packed and ready for sale, he was instead greeted with a sight that belonged on the second floor. The room was ornate, a distinctly Asian flair to the décor. The light was dim yet the candles set about kept an easy and inviting atmosphere. There was some incense burning, adding to the hazy feel of the room and also working to mask the smell that'd drawn him in here.

He wasn't a narcotics expert, but he was still suspicious of the smell. He crept further into the room, and paused, heart making a leap when he suddenly realized he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone, and he was being watched.

Reclining on an ornate daybed, Alfred stared at what at first glance looked like a gentle Asian beauty. Ink black hair trailed over one shoulder, tied in a small ribbon. The clothes looked definitely Asian, traditional… hell, the clothes of different cultures wasn't Alfred's strong suit. He supposed, when it came down to it, the clothes didn't really matter. What he wouldn't give for his gun right now.

He locked his eyes with the other man, tensing just in case he tried to get up, call out in alarm. As the moments went by, though, Alfred realized that wasn't going to happen. Though he wasn't smoking any at the moment, no doubt this man was the reason for the smell of opium here. The man looked dazed, lethargic, depressed. He was probably trapped in the lows of withdrawal. The eyes locked on Alfred seemed only barely lucid, perking up only slowly. A sinking feeling clutched at Alfred's gut, a little different than before.

He'd never seen this man before… and yet this room filled his head with only one notion about its occupant. He wasn't a host like Alfred had become and yet… this room was like an ornately painted and gilded cage. It was as if this man was on display as a treasure, a fine exotic bird that only the most deserving were allowed to see. Was he another captive?

Alfred came closer to the bed, the man watching him, never rising further up on the pillows that propped him up in elegant repose. There was just a hint of curiosity in those eyes; just a small sparkle shining through the film that drug had painted over those orbs.

The man's lips moved, words Alfred couldn't understand breaking the silence. When all he did was continue to stare, the words came again, slightly different but still in a language Alfred couldn't speak. He shook his head.

"Hey buddy, do you speak English? I can't understand you…" He tried to keep his voice calm, neutral. He still wasn't sure if this man would call for help or not. There was a lethargic blinking of the eyes from the one on the bed, the man struggling to rise somewhat.

"You should not be here…" Well, hell if Alfred didn't know that! Seeing how much the other was struggling to rise, Alfred rushed over to the bed, trying to lend a hand. The man frowned at him, trying to shove his hands away. "You must get away from me… leave now."

Alfred frowned, shaking his head. "I can't just go… who are you? Are you… are you here against your will? Are they—" So many questions, and before any could be answered the chilling sound of the door clicking open filled the air. _'Shit shit shit…'_ He realized, much too late, that he hadn't scanned this room for surveillance. _'Rookie mistake Al!'_

Alfred turned, feeling almost in slow motion, to see one of his bosses standing in the doorway. Behind him were two men, but they were not nearly as intimidating as the silvery blond with the prominent nose. Alfred had met the bosses only once… only when he was 'allowed' to start here as a host. He felt his throat go dry, the muscles in his hands wanting to go for a gun he didn't have. His boss strode in calmly, his tall and heavy frame commanding respect and authority even if his face was only filled with the most pleasant smile of a child.

"This room is off limits," he said simply, not an ounce of anger in his voice. Like over protective hounds, the guards moved with the boss, never falling too far behind him. Violet eyes locked to Alfred's blue, a smile was met with a fierce scowl.

"Yeah, well, you should have put a sign on the door or something." He knew tossing an attitude here wasn't a good idea, but there was no believable ignorance he could feign for breaking into a locked room. The man hummed in the back of his throat, as if considering the idea.

"Perhaps we will. Though I had thought the rule that hosts are to stay on the third floor unless summoned was very clear." Standing right before Alfred, the man continued to smile down at him pleasantly. "I will consider this as I escort you where you belong." As softly as it was said, the finality in the tone was biting and cold, a chilling warning to Alfred not to struggle.

Weighing his options, Alfred sighed, raking his hand through his hair. The boss hadn't said anything that specifically led him to believe he was about to be 'taken out'… so perhaps for now… this was going to be overlooked? _'No… no way it will… but for now I'll go along with it.'_ There wasn't much he could do in this room faced with three very large men. He cast a glance back at the Asian man on the daybed, wishing he knew his story.

The hand that roughly grabbed his arm jerked him away from those thoughts, his boss pulling him along like a child with a disobedient puppy. Alfred resisted digging in his heels like a child. Sure he was going to get in trouble for this, but if at least his cover wasn't blown, then perhaps he'd just end up like Feliciano during his escape attempts. He could deal with a beating and hell… it'd get him off the active host roster for a while. Staying away from clients would give Alfred time to think, if nothing else.

"You know… I believe I understand why you were up here. Unlocking locked doors. You are very lucky, by the way, that it was I that noticed you there." He cast a very meaningful look to Alfred, his childish face seeming absurd trying to make such an honest and conspiratorial gesture. "Your other boss would be most unhappy."

As much as Alfred wanted to know more about that subject, he was more terrified at the first part of that statement, the part that could very well mean his boss knew what he was up to. Their eyes remained locked in a stare down as they walked, and unfortunately Alfred couldn't voice the question. If he seemed too curious about it, would he look suspicious? Thankfully, reaching the top of the stairs to go back to the third floor, his boss continued on.

"It is because you have too much free time. As you are so new, we have been kind to you, yes? We have given you few clients, easy clients. I think it is time, yes, to expand your workload. Now you will not be bored!" The childish glee in his boss's voice at that was worse than any sort of threatening growl. The way his face seemed to light up like a delighted child seemed grotesquely inhuman. Before Alfred could respond, before he could open his mouth to get even one word out, his boss suddenly shoved him forward.

Alfred could only thank his body's quick reflexes in getting his arms up as he tumbled down the stairs. Cradling his head and protecting his neck, he grunted and let out yelps of pain as the sharp edges of the stairs battered and stabbed into his sides. His knees collided painfully against the solid steps, his back throbbing and pinching at each painful strike of a corner. The jarring motion left his mind reeling as he tumbled, making a noisy and speedy pace to the floor. When he hit the bottom he groaned, trying to roll over to rise despite the almost electric jolts running through his spine at the attempt.

He was saved the effort by a hand jerking him up to his feet, by two sets of arms starting to haul him up. His boss was soon standing before him again as the guards braced him up. The smile was still on his boss's face, but it had matured, it was thoughtful. It was, however, still very much pleased.

"Do you know why you disobeyed my rules, Alfred? Do you know why, even though you were told it was wrong, you ventured where you should not go?" The lack of a pause made it all too evident his boss didn't care if Alfred had his own thoughts on the matter. "It is because you are like a dog. You can be trained, but if you are not watched carefully, you are likely to disobey. Do you know how you can train an animal not to perform a behavior?"

Those violet eyes pierced into Alfred deeply, teasing him with what was coming neck. "You punish it of course… you punish it and make it fear you." His boss reached out, patting Alfred's head. "You disobey the rules because you do not fear me. If I must, I will change that. I would rather we stay friends though, it is much better that way."

With that the guards started to roughly pull Alfred along the corridor to his room. Many of the doors of the other hosts had opened, his fall down the stairs having startled many. He saw Feliciano rush to Francis's room; saw the Italian start pounding on the door. Alfred didn't have much time to watch out for others. It was all he could do to keep his feet as he was jerked roughly to his room, body wanting to lash out at the two men holding him. All the while his boss followed behind, watching and smiling, even waving pleasantly to some of the other hosts.

When they got to his room the guards all but ripped the door from the hinges as they forced it open and threw him inside. Alfred stumbled forward, hitting his table and falling to the ground. The guards were on him in moments, kicking at him while he was down.

Every fiber of Alfred's being wanted to fight back, to use his training and kick some ass. Instead, for the sake of the mission that hadn't failed just yet (he hoped), he curled up and took it. His teeth were clenched tightly as blow upon blow assaulted his body, knocking the wind from him and making him ache.

"Ah… no no… he has work to do, work he needs his body for. Come, he will behave for now, won't you Alfred?"

No one waited for his answer, his door closing with a soft click. Alfred coughed and hugged his sides, rolling over and trying to breathe through the pain. His heart ached with the thought that he'd failed, that the stakes had gotten that much higher. At this rate he wasn't going to be the hero after all.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

There was a pounding noise at his door, and Francis groaned, rolling over. He was exhausted, and it was much too early in the morning for someone to come and disturb his beauty sleep! He tried to ignore it, knowing full well there was no reason for him to be up at this hour today. He had no appointments, and as much as he very much loved to socialize with the other hosts, they would simply have to wait until he was properly awake and composed. Francis was simply not a morning person.

However, the pounding on his door simply wouldn't stop, and with a snarl the blond stomped out of his bed, pulling on a silk robe only on the off chance that someone _important_ might be calling. He barely tied the sash about his waist, so it was very touch and go how well the robe would stay closed. He cracked his door open just slightly, an almost murderous aura about him as he peered out to see his visitor.

"Big brother Francis, big brother Francis!" It was a very panicked Feliciano, a rather terrified one. Francis opened the door a bit more, his confusion and concern outweighing his foul temper for the moment.

"Feliciano? What is it?" His was answered by a tug at his arm and a finger pointing down the hall. Francis poked his head out of his room further before his eyes went wide. Swiftly he grasped the Italian's arm, forcefully jerking him into his room and behind him protectively. With Feliciano safely in his room and out of sight, Francis watched as Alfred was dragged forcibly into his own room by two of the Gallery's guards. _'No… what has that fool done?'_ There was a distinctly unpleasant flutter in his chest, a feeling as though the small butterfly of hope was being caught in a cat's paws.

Alfred disappeared from Francis's sight, and the older blond swallowed heavily, fear weighed down on him with icy fingers. Hesitantly he looked to his boss, stared at Ivan. The other man met his gaze, supposedly cheerful and yet Francis could never say he'd know what the other was thinking at any time. His boss waved, and Francis waved back with a stony look in his eyes.

He watched from his doorway until the guards and Ivan had returned to the fourth floor before shutting his door and retreating into his room to sit on the edge of his bed. Feliciano followed him like a terrified pup, not knowing what to do. Quite honestly, that made two of them.

Rubbing his forehead, Francis tried to pull himself together. _'Alfred is a professional… he is an agent. Though his acting is terrible… he will not break from a little violence… and they would not drag him back to his room to kill him.'_ The blond man looked back up, reaching out for Feliciano to offer him a hug and some support. Quickly the auburn haired youth had attached himself in a hug, nuzzling into Francis's chest.

Yes, Alfred would recover from… from whatever had happened… and Francis would give the idiotic youth an earful for doing something so drastic. Whatever it was that he'd done that is, he'd have to get the story from Alfred's lips soon. The hopes of getting the hosts out were resting on Alfred's shoulders… and though Francis thought the man understood that, perhaps he needed to be reminded. _'Perhaps he also… could simply use some support.'_ Anything he could do… anything he could give to Alfred… Francis would do it if it could just lead to freedom.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Toris? Like, what just happened up there? I was totally in the middle of an interview and like, had to lie to the dude about stuff falling over." Feliks stormed up to the third floor, staring at the brunette who was looking down the hall rather somberly. Toris turned his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. It was a sigh filled with just as much agitated frustration as it was filled with regret.

"Alfred was caught on the fourth floor… he was 'escorted' back down. By Ivan. Personally." A small shiver raced over his body, a faint sensation that was gone as quickly as it'd come. He opened his eyes, watching the blond arch his brows.

"So like, what does this mean?" Feliks propped his hands on his hips, highly annoyed it seemed. Toris gave a rueful laugh.

"I've been asked to tell you that Alfred will be accepting male clients now as well, and that there will be no break in his schedule from… this event." Toris had expected some sort of snide or sarcastic comment to come from his friend and confidant, and was most surprised when he saw absolute joy spark in those flat green orbs.

"For serious?" Feliks was positively bouncing. Reaching out to grab the blond's shoulders, Toris pinned him with a serious gaze. This really wasn't a laughing matter here, and he found Feliks's reaction highly inappropriate, and even a bit heartless.

"Yes, very serious… why?" His friend was up to something, and Toris wanted to know. Thankfully, Feliks was never one to withhold something of this nature from the brunette. An excited rush of words met Toris's ears, whispered close and quiet. He could feel his heart race a bit, thudding as the realization of his friend's words sank in.

"So, like, you see? This… this… is so _totally_ perfect…" Feliks started to clap his hands, looking like he'd give a spin if he'd been in a dress. Without another word the blond rushed back down the stairs, no doubt to schedule an appointment between a certain Mr. Doyle and Alfred.

Toris turned, staring back at Alfred's door, his mind a blur at the possibilities. Was this… was this finally the break they'd all been looking and waiting for? Toris turned his eyes back towards the stairs to the third floor, deeply conflicted even though he knew what was the proper thing to do. _'One step at a time… you won't find the way if you don't take the journey.'_ If only things at the Gallery were black and white. If only there wasn't so much grey.

If there was an easy solution to all of his, Toris would have acted by now. As it was… well… he'd have to remain alert.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

It's a little weird having such short little sections at the end like that… and yet… even if I'd saved them for the next chapter, they wouldn't have been lengthened. Ah well. It _seems_ like things may be taking a turn for the better eh? But the Gallery is a deceiving place, and oh we're not even close to the end of this ride.

Not that I think anyone cares, but one of my favorite songs to listen to while I write this fic is 'The Great Shipwreck of Life' by IAMX. It's very suited for the Gallery I think, maybe, I dunno. No need to go and listen, it was just a random thing I thought I'd share down here.

I wonder, has anyone guessed who the second boss is? I haven't really set out too many hints really, and quite frankly… I'm expecting people to be a little 'wtf' when they find out. Then again, perhaps no one will care at all. XD

Reviews are loved, and _thank you_ to those who send them to me. Hopefully those reading this continue to enjoy it~

Next chapter should have lesson 2. 'wink wink'


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Just a reminder… this chapter contains lesson 2. You all know what that means. Proceed accordingly.

* * *

He adjusted his laptop once again, trying to angle the screen so that it obtained the maximum balance of light versus glare. Oh he had the brightness settings up high, but he was also attempting to compensate for the rather poor video quality he was receiving. Unfortunately, each time he nudged the screen of his laptop backwards or forwards, protests and quiet nags were called out at him. Whoever decided that embedding the webcam in laptop's monitor was a good idea was an idiot that deserved to be shot. Snorting in frustration, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest.

"I give up! Besides! All you all really need to do is hear me. I don't see why we're bothering with a video chat." He shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes though it was certainly there. Of course, at the moment, he was fairly certain any gesture he made would be lost on those on the other end of this chat.

Displayed quite clearly in the screen was a struggle to claim dominance of the camera on the other end. Ludwig seemed to be winning thus far, his solid frame hunched over, the laptop held in both of his hands as he tried to shield the device and keep it from being knocked to the floor. Lovino, of course, seemed hell bent on stealing the laptop away, distracted in his urgency to talk to Arthur by his insistence that he take center stage for his question. Antonio, well, he seemed more as though he was half trying to sooth Lovino and half wishing for control of the screen as well.

Someone else seemed to be trying to edge into the camera too, and it was this person and Lovino that finally pressed side by side and filled the camera, effectively blocking out Ludwig and Antonio altogether.

"Did you see my brother?" The exclamation came in stereo, one voice loud and angry and demanding, the other quiet yet certainly filled with just as much pent up worry and anxiety as the other's. This seemed to break the tension and the struggle on the other side, and before Arthur could answer he watched as Ludwig finally brought order to the four agents, getting everyone to sit or stand in a manner where all were visible with frightening yelling. Arthur took a deep breath, glad he didn't have to suffer the German's wrath in person.

"No… I made no contact with Alfred, nor with Feliciano. I was unable to meet with any of the hosts this time around." He disliked being the bearer of bad news, disliked watching the way Lovino angrily stormed away for a moment, muttering obscenities in Italian. But he hated far more deeply the look of utter dejection and disappointment that laced across… across… oh come on this was not the time to forget! The sorrow crossed… _Matthew's_ face bitterly. He watched as Matthew's shoulders sagged, and Arthur could almost imagine the young man wanted to revert to his old childhood comfort patterns, hugging that old white bear.

"I'm very sorry," he said, and he meant it. He was worried and disappointed as well, and he could only imagine how the others felt. Antonio's smile was gone and Ludwig… the man looked lost for a moment as he struggled to maintain his composure. As much as he wished to give the team time to accept this information, to cope with this unwelcome news, Arthur firmly believed it best to keep them on task. They'd all been living with the reality of these missing persons for months, much longer in the case of Ludwig and Lovino. Nothing good would come of falling to despair all over again. Focusing back to their mission was for the best.

"The Gallery seems to have quite a few simple precautions set in place when it comes to screening clients for their hosts beyond just the background check and medical clearance." He kept his voice even, professional, speaking slowly to give them all time to come back to their senses. Once he knew they were all paying attention, he continued on to specifics. "They do not allow clients to select a host with pictures, instead having a front man perform an interview of tastes. This man used a rather foolish pseudonym, though I am quite willing to give a description."

Ah, perhaps this video chat _could_ be useful for them. Arthur sat up a bit straighter, then awkwardly hunched down, annoyed at trying to stay in the view of the camera. "Lovino… fancy trying your hand at a police sketch? I know you haven't had your hand in such a thing for years…" The Italian man seemed startled at this request, his face turning red as he glowered at Arthur through the camera.

"I'm not very good at it…" Arthur opened his mouth to chide the other, but the Italian quickly cut him off. "But it'd take too long to get someone else down here so I _guess_ I'll do it for you." Lovino moved away from the webcam, and Arthur was fairly certain he heard a grumbled 'bastard' under the man's breath.

While the Italian was away, Matthew leaned forward, holding his hand up just slightly to gain Arthur's attention. "Were the bugs alright? They didn't detect anything?"

Arthur gave a smile and a nod. "As far as I am aware, they did not detect them at all. I have the clothes set aside very carefully, ready for pickup whenever you feel it would be safe." Matthew gave a return nod, already mentally preparing to go acquire the clothes later that day. They'd go over the recorded incident with a fine toothed comb once they had the bugs in their possession. The interview would be dissected, along with all of the background sounds and events.

Antonio cleared his throat, his smile back in place. He seemed to be diverting his attention between Arthur and Lovino's search for a pencil and paper. "You said the man used a rather foolish pseudonym, what was it? I'll ask around with my contacts, see if anyone recognizes it, see if I can catch anything."

Knowing how vast Antonio's undercover connections reached, Arthur had high hopes for at least someone coming up with something. "Poland." Antonio quirked a brow at him, and Arthur shrugged. "He played it off as an inside joke, and he did tell me to speak to him as _just_ Poland, not as a 'Mr. Poland'."

Antonio gave an easy laugh, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. Already he was pulling out a cell phone, a twinkle in his eye as he immediately got to work. As he did so Ludwig leaned forward. His temper had evened, and his stoic face sought some sort of task from Arthur. The green eyed man picked up the documents indicating the account he needed to transfer the payment into by nightfall.

Reading it off, Ludwig took it down and immediately got to work, both conducting the transfer of funds from Gareth's account as well as beginning to run the Gallery's account through their systems. They fully expected that they'd hit a roadblock, run up against apparently legit accounts amidst dummy ones… but it was something. It would all depend on just how clean and precise their account and data management was at the Gallery… and obviously for them to be this slippery, it was formidable.

"Alright asshole…" Lovino shoved his way back into focus of the webcam, glaring at Arthur and brandishing a pencil as if he wanted to stab the paper or the other man. Thus, as most of them began working on their own tasks, Arthur began to give a description of Poland. Lovino's hand worked furiously over the paper as he asked questions of Arthur, insulted his ability to describe a face, and also cursed his own artistic skills. "How's this?" He all but yelled at Arthur after many rounds of working on the sketch. It was certainly no masterpiece of a portrait, but Arthur nodded in approval. Lovino had a good hand at art, despite his protests of being no good, and the sketch rang true.

"Get that image circulating discretely. That's him." Lovino was up and moving, all the agents taking a look at the sketch (Antonio making the Italian blush with his flirtatious praise of the 'art'). As dismal as the call had started out, everyone seemed to be filled with a new hope and determination. After sluggish months on this job, it finally felt as though they had made at least a small breakthrough. Arthur felt a wave of excitement pass through him, though it was tempered with anxiety as well. They had their first break… and with any luck… they'd get another one through his appointment with his mystery host.

x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x

Curled up on his bed, Alfred had been sleeping through most of the day. He'd been woken up here and there by Feliks or Toris or some faceless doctor he hadn't managed to snag a name from. He'd been fed, had his bruises looked after and iced, a small balm rubbed on his skin to help reduce the visible signs of the bruising that was sure to come. Oh he'd still purple up alright, but perhaps he wouldn't look like he'd been tossed into a concrete mixer. Those visits had mostly been a blur, and he could hardly remember anything said to him.

Hardly anything but Felik's so very ominous words. An appointment. With a man. Coming up so very soon. Unprofessional as it was, Alfred had taken to a bit of moping. Drifting in and out of sleep all day, he alternated between resting his aching body, furiously trying to figure out what steps to take next, and well… cursing himself for being such an impulsive idiot. Oh how Arthur would have such a grand time laughing at him for this. The very thing Arthur warned him not to do, go rushing off without fully preparing… look what it'd gotten him? He'd tried to get away from having to entertain a man… but instead of throwing the figurative stick of dynamite, all he'd done was cut the wick shorter before lighting it himself.

At the knock on his door, Alfred rolled over with a groan. He didn't want to see anyone. Not that doctor, not Toris with his strange look underneath his concern, not Feliks to come and tell him he had even more men to please coming up or something. Unprofessional as it was, right now all he wanted to do was turn his head off for a bit. Couldn't he do that? Seemed impossible, and Alfred hated it. In a rejection of the outside world he yanked his blanket up over his head.

He heard the door open and close, his ears straining to pick up the sounds. _'Knowing my luck today, that's one of the bosses, come to tell me they have even more dastardly plans for me!'_ Imagination running on him a bit, he felt his muscles tensing and relaxing on instinct as his guest made their way to his bed. Hurt as he was, his body prepared for a possible fight on reflex. As much as he was hiding under his covers, every nerve in Alfred's body seemed ready to spring. Thoughts of a gun being pulled on him left him all but ready to tear the blankets down in one swift yank.

It wasn't a gun that came for him, just a soft 'tsk' and a weight on the edge of the bed. Alfred furrowed his brow, as if willing his eyes to see through the sheet, as if waiting for some sixth sense to kick in and tell him who was sitting so close to him. The figure hadn't made any moves to touch him, only made subtle shifts indicating someone making themselves comfortable. Silence played out in the room before Alfred groaned, rolling his eyes and pulling the blanket down just enough for his eyes and nose to peek over it.

"Seriously Francis… not now…" Truth be told, he was a little surprised it'd taken this long for the blond man to come to visit him. For some reason he'd thought Francis would come rushing to his room the minute their boss left. In a way… he'd been disappointed that the older man hadn't… yet on another level he'd been very glad to have the space in which to rest and try to work things over in his head. Even if it'd been useless and frustrating and overall infuriating.

Francis had his legs crossed, arms bracing his body up as he leaned back slightly. The older host cast a look over his shoulder down at Alfred that would have made scolding mothers across the world proud. Alfred had his glasses off so he couldn't see the finest of intricacies in the look, but there seemed to be a definite edge of worry, an almost palpable sense of agitation radiating off of the other man. _'I really… really don't want a lecture right now…'_ He might have _deserved_ one… but Alfred really didn't want to hear one.

Francis's face was hard and cold as he gazed down at him, lips pulled into the tightest of lines as they pursed and stretched and seemed to strain to hold in whatever rant was hoping to spill forth. When that mouth finally stretched open, Alfred actually tensed. However… no harsh yelling came out, as inside Francis took in a long steadying breath, letting it out in a huff. The glare that was sent his way seemed filled with the venom of words left unsaid. For now. Alfred didn't feel he was in the clear over this.

"Well? Please tell me something good has come of your… 'adventure'… this morning?" Francis arched a brow at Alfred expectantly. Letting out a sigh, Alfred moved to sit up, biting back a wince of pain, because it certainly wouldn't be heroic to look defeated in front of one of the 'damsels in distress' here. The classification of Francis as a damsel actually made him snort out a short laugh, gaining a confused upward twitch of the lips from Francis.

"Well…" Alfred said, leaning forward and looking towards his nightstand for his glasses. Before he could reach for them Francis had picked them up, offering them without a word. Alfred nodded in thanks, grateful he wouldn't have to twist about to reach them. "I… no… not really." Slipping on his glasses, he fixed Francis with a serious stare, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I did find what may be another captive man… may have stumbled across some other operation going on here maybe… but really my mission this morning was… it was a failure."

Francis tilted his head to the side, curious, and Alfred figured now was a good time to ask about the Asian man he'd come across. "You don't remember hearing about hosts being kept on the fourth floor, do you? Or do you know of an Asian host maybe? Real pretty looking guy… long hair?"

"I… a host? No… I don't seem to recall any Asian hosts…" Francis knit his brows together in thought for a moment, but the shaking of his head was all the answer Alfred needed. He wasn't surprised that the other host didn't know anything about the affairs of the fourth floor. It wasn't as though they were kept in the loop when it came to the Gallery's affairs.

"Don't worry about it. I'll keep looking into him. Him and everything else of course." He hadn't expected Francis to look quite so surprised at those words, and he frowned in his own confusion.

"You're… you're truly going to continue your investigation? After having a direct run in with one of the bosses?" Francis seemed almost incredulous, but Alfred really only heard the other emotion playing through those questions. Hope. It was like Alfred could always sniff out that emotion when others projected it on him. He gave a smart nod of the head, lifting his hand up and curling it into a vigorous fist by his face.

"Of course! I came in here prepared for things to go real bad, you know? I've played it safe, but this was always a possibility from day one. I messed up here, let myself get real lax and sloppy after all this time, but I am a pro! This _is_ what I do, and I'm not gonna stop or give up until I take these guys down! Let 'em punish me a bit, I can handle it! The hero always triumphs in the end!" He flashed a shining smile at Francis, who seemed to lean away a bit in utter disbelief. It wasn't long though before Francis seemed reassured, before the man leaned in closer to Alfred with more of that flirtatious charm the older host always seemed to carry. Soft laughter escaped Francis, his blue eyes warmed considerably as they peered into Alfred's shining set.

"Haha, if I didn't know any better Alfred, I'd begin to think you were a bit of a masochist. So… just what is this punishment they've sentenced you to then?" There was a twinkle in Francis's eyes that showed he had a very good guess. A damn accurate one. Alfred grimaced and gave a nod.

"So umm… you up for another lesson? Cuz it looks like I'm all outta time… got my first man-client coming right up." He was pretty proud of himself for getting through that statement without flipping out. Go him.

Francis ran his fingers through his wavy hair, flicking it over his shoulder as he studied Alfred. "I really don't believe you're in any sort of state for a lesson… and I must confess Alfred, I am disappointed! Ah… I had wanted to make teaching you so very lovely and wonderful; you have ruined my splendid plans for romance! I would have trained and shaped you into the utterly perfect lover… I-"

"Hahaha… h-hey now… let's not get carried away here…" Alfred held his hands up, shaking them vigorously as he tried to stop Francis's monologue about just what sort of ultimate lover he wished to make out of Alfred. Not only was the thought of becoming the world's top male host rather uncomfortable, but Francis's talk about making the lessons 'lovely' and… well… romantic, were making Alfred's face flush red. He seriously didn't want to think about the reason for that. A corner of his mind _did_ wonder if Francis meant it.

Or if something being romantic to Francis meant the same thing that it did to Alfred.

Francis leaned over, reaching out a hand to trail it playfully over Alfred's arm, causing him to drop his hands back down to his sides, fisting his hands into the blanket pooled around his lap. "So? What is it going to be for your first client?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Alfred blinked, vacant confusion blanketing his face for a moment. Francis leveled a very knowing look at Alfred, lips quirked just slightly with a leer and a raised eyebrow.

"Bottom or top?" He gestured languidly in the air with his finger, as if toying with and invisible string. Alfred flushed deeper red, body tensing up.

"I don't know!" He looked down, embarrassed, but Francis actually pulled back a touch, seemingly surprised.

"You don't know? How do you not know? Toris is always very good about telling us what to expect… it'd be disastrous if we went in utterly unprepared…" Alfred shrugged, actually growing irate remembering the news.

"Yeah well, it wasn't Toris who told me! Feliks came in himself and told me, all smirky and smug and way too excited! All he did was rush in and poke at my bruises saying 'You've got, like, a gentleman client coming up!' while wiggling his eyebrows up and down just to piss me off I bet!" Alfred was fuming as remembered it, which is why he didn't seem to catch the rather contemplative look that crossed Francis's face.

He was about to rant on when Francis reached out, putting a hand to his shoulder and fixing him with a rather serious gaze. It stilled Alfred's rant, caused his anger to subside just a bit as the look in Francis's eyes seemed to dig into his more rational mind a bit. "Feliks told you? Do you not find that… odd?"

Alfred settled down further, looking away and giving it some thought. "You know… now that I think about it… it always has been Toris who came to tell me and get me." He fixed Francis with a thoughtful glance. "In all your time here…?"

Francis gave a rather elegant shrug of his shoulders. "It has always been Toris." The two blonds stared at each other in silent contemplation, searching each other's eyes and faces as if at any moment one of them would be struck with an epiphany over the matter. Francis's hand reached up absently to rub at the soft stubble on his chin, while Alfred took to chewing at the skin of his lower lip.

"Well… it is possible that not knowing could be part of the punishment… they may not want me to be prepared… and Toris is such a good guy, they might have thought he'd try to give me a hint if he told me…" Alfred's voice didn't seem to hold too much confidence in the theory, though at least his brain was working over the matter properly.

"Hmm… but to send Feliks like that… while I admit Feliks can be a bit… mmm… difficult to manage… he would not have such a good time conveying such vague news. I have never known him to be malicious…" Francis tilted his head to the side slightly, watching as Alfred nodded back.

Suddenly to Alfred's mind, his first male client took on an even more ominous tone, something he hadn't honestly thought was possible. It could perhaps explain some of the strange looks he'd caught in Toris's concern from earlier, and he wondered if he'd be able to glean anything from the other between now and his client. He'd certainly set to mind to try. His upcoming appointment took on strange new dimensions in his head, and though it was a wild fancy perhaps it wasn't unreasonable to think he may not be walking into a night with a client at all. Perhaps they had something darker in store for him.

Francis's words on Feliks's character seemed at odds with that though. Feliks could be aggravating as hell… but Alfred did agree. If the man knew Alfred was going to be put through something terrible, he doubted the man would seem so happy about it. Still… how much did Feliks really know? How much trust did the bosses place in him? Quite a bit considering his job… but how much was told to him on a 'need-to-know' basis? He couldn't recall seeing Feliks interacting with the bosses much… but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"I'll just have to be prepared for anything. Hopefully Toris will at least give me a heads up when he escorts me to the appointment, if nothing else." His voice was sober, grim, but not at all defeated. Hell, if Alfred wasn't a guy who loved challenges, he wouldn't have gone for this line of work. It was just another obstacle for him to triumph over in his grand adventure to save the day.

Francis was very quiet still, seemingly lost in thought. Alfred couldn't help but smile. He never would have believed it when he first met the other man… but he was turning out to be a devoted ally. He seemed truly committed to helping Alfred… but better yet to the agent's mind… he seemed absolutely devoted to helping the other hosts here. Beneath his perversions Francis was a good man, Alfred could tell. For not the first time he wondered how he ended up here… if there were others out there still looking for him. _'I'm going to save him too though… we're all gonna get out of here.'_

Oh yes, part of Alfred knew that was overly optimistic thinking. He wasn't some rookie… it wasn't as though he hadn't been involved in operations that didn't end in rainbows and happy endings. Still, that was Alfred. He'd reach for the stars always, never even considering setting his goals any lower. Clearing his throat to draw Francis out of his brooding, he offered the other a lopsided grin. "So… it's… not ideal and all… but… well… I'd sure as hell rather have my uh… shit, this sounds way too girly."

Francis raised his eyebrows, a tiny bit of laughter lightening his expression again, which helped ease some of Alfred's tensions. He needed anything he could take right now. Between the pain and… and… what he was asking for here… yeah… he needed some happy things to set his mind on. Francis leaned in closer to Alfred, just slightly, almost casually. His eyes swept over the agent, appraising and, once again, containing that fondness that left Alfred feeling confused on so many levels. When Francis spoke, something in his tone, buried inside his voice, made Alfred shiver just slightly. It made him remember their first lesson.

"I'm not so certain Alfred… as much as I'd enjoy ravishing your body… perhaps it would be best not to do anything just yet. Besides… I do not think you would want to be sore for your client, if you know what I mean…" The suggestive nature of Francis's voice was at clear odds with his words about calling this off.

As much as a part of Alfred screamed at him to take this out, to use the excuse Francis had just given him, Alfred held firm. He needed to stick to his guns here… but more than anything, a deep desire possessed him, forcing its way through his lips as he reached out to grasp Francis's shoulder. The other host was clearly shocked by this contact, his face lifting with slight surprise.

"Francis… please." Alfred was impressed with just how firm his voice sounded, and it helped to give him the confidence to confess what was on his mind. "I don't want my first time with a man to… well… just be with some random client. It's… I know it's stupid… but I've known you for a while now… and with you…" He stopped speaking; part of his mind starting to worry just what else might come crawling past his lips if he kept it up. He knew he could say things he wasn't completely sure he should say if his nerves got the best of him. It was probably one of the biggest challenges he'd had to overcome in becoming an agent. Censoring his own mouth was a difficult job.

The older host stared at him in silence, something in his eyes he concealed with a dipping of his gaze and a lowering of his eyelids. Lashes veiled Francis's eyes for a moment, before the man looked back up at Alfred. Humor and affection both sparkled in his eyes. "There is no doubt left in my mind," he laughed softly, reaching up to teasingly tug at Alfred's ear. "You're truly a masochist. Through and through."

Alfred's jaw dropped open in indignation. Still… it seemed as though he was about to get his wish… lesson two. He licked his lips, his heart beating at an erratic rate. Still, something in his stomach seemed to squirm in a manner that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Thoughts of the first lesson again touched his mind, and Alfred started to wonder if it was more than just his nerves accelerating his pulse. It couldn't be… right?

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Rising from his seat beside Alfred on the bed, Francis felt a troubling mixture of emotions brushing along his senses. Worry over Alfred's mission, his health… that was there. Worry that perhaps their one beacon of hope might be extinguished weighed on him heavily. Still, over the worries… there were other emotions, ones Francis had just told himself to be wary of not so long ago. This foolish agent… he was continuing to endear himself to Francis without even trying.

It hadn't been a confession of attraction, that request for Francis to take Alfred's backdoor virginity. Still though… Francis had to wonder if the agent knew just how expressive his eyes were. Had to wonder if he knew that his glasses did nothing to hide those feelings that coursed warm and hot under the surface. _'Perhaps Alfred is blind to it… perhaps to his mind there is nothing there.'_ The thought shouldn't have upset Francis at all, shouldn't have mattered a bit. Even before becoming a host, Francis had shared a bed with many a man or woman who held no actual emotions towards him.

'_Ah yes… that is perhaps the problem…'_ Alfred did seem to hold him in a high regard… and over the months the agent had been here, Francis knew a bond had been forming between them. Would it become like _this_ then? Should Francis stop this? Could he stop it? It was difficult to tell… but one thing was certain. He would remain faithful in his offer to help prepare Alfred for all aspects of life as a host. No matter if emotions grew between them… Francis would not fail Alfred in this. _'A convenient excuse this has become perhaps.'_

He started to walk towards the door of the room, which had Alfred struggling to his feet in a flurry of tangled blankets and confusion.

"Hey wait a minute… are you leaving?" Francis smirked at Alfred, gracing him with a slow wink.

"Only for a moment… unless of course you have the proper items here for our lesson?" He made certain his voice dripped with innuendo, and the way Alfred sank back on the bed was far too charming. It was strange to see such a blend of rabid determination mixed with reluctance. Hearing no further protests, Francis slipped from Alfred's room to his own, slowly collecting just what he'd need to properly 'educate' the agent with. He took his time, trying to center himself, clear his head of certain worries.

'_Alfred is determined… his spirit is strong and he does indeed rise well to a challenge… but if I am to truly help him with this… then I must be at my best as well.'_ He hadn't been kidding when he'd expressed a wish to teach Alfred with a bit of romance. It was a cold cruel thing he was doing if one stripped away the pleasant words and the sentimental trappings. He was teaching Alfred to be a whore… he was teaching Alfred to throw away his inhibitions, to embrace a lifestyle that was condemned and frowned upon. He was tearing down a man… tearing him down for the profit of others.

He'd done it before, and though he could tell himself it was for the best… though he could convince himself during the light of day that without his help many hosts would have perished here in body and mind… in the dark of the night there was nothing to hide the fact that he'd become naught be a tool for the bosses that enslaved them. _'I mustn't think on that now…'_ He took in a deep breath, face pensive yet eyes steeled. Alfred was a professional… he'd come here prepared for this… there should be no reason for Francis to be hesitating over this at all.

Returning to Alfred's room, Francis had his typical flirtatious smile in place, ever the expert at projecting the air of a lover to others. He noticed Alfred was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, face focused in a manner that would be far more appropriate before going to visit the dentist for cavities. As Francis moved closer, Alfred looked up, giving a half grin and reaching up to tap his glasses.

"So let me guess… close my eyes again, right?" Francis set down his items, noticing the way Alfred's eyes flicked to stare at them. Stepping into the agent's eye line, Francis reached out, brushing his fingertips along Alfred's jaw lightly to draw his vision up.

"Not this time Alfred…" With a fluid gesture of his hand, Francis guided Alfred's vision towards the floor to ceiling mirror in the room the agent used to dress himself before. Alfred blinked slowly, realization dawning upon him even as Francis whispered out the words to him. "This time… you will watch everything."

The agent worked his jaw for a moment, words no doubt wishing to come out. Francis wondered if Alfred would protest. Despite Alfred's hero complex, he knew that like all men, he wasn't in possession of infinite courage and confidence. He'd learned all too intimately that the younger man could become extremely flustered, and the bruises that littered Alfred's body were a testament to what happened when the agent let his anxieties get the best of him. _'I must make him enjoy this…'_ Francis banished the thought that he also _wanted_ Alfred to enjoy this. Francis had enjoyed the first lesson in a way he hadn't with the other hosts… a guilty pleasure he knew.

"Ok…" Alfred said, and Francis watched as he took in a deep breath. A calm seemed to pass over Alfred's face, and the eyes that met Francis's almost stole his breath away. There it was… there was the look of the man that could bring down the gallery. There it was again… the blue skies of freedom. These were the eyes that'd first inspired Francis to help Alfred. "I'm ready."

Stepping right before Alfred, Francis reached forward, using both of his hands to cup Alfred's face with a feather light touch. Bending forward as he tilted the other's head back, Francis dropped his voice low, a seductive whisper. "Watch everything I do Alfred… memorize every touch I place upon you, every motion I make…" He brought their lips together, a strange warmth hitting his chest when Alfred didn't flinch away from the contact. Softly, with such devotion it was impossible to believe that there was no love here, Francis kissed Alfred. His lips were slow and gentle, they responded and shaped Alfred's motions, guiding without demanding, teaching without intimidating.

"All that I shall do to you… give yourself to it… and remember. Remember so that when the time comes… you will know what to do." He leaned away just enough so that they could look into each other's eyes. He knew it needed to be impersonal… he knew Alfred needed to be able to do this with anyone… not just him. But the time… they'd been robbed of so much time.

Alfred made no response at first, only clung to Francis with his eyes, only spoke of how much he didn't want to be in this situation with his gaze. Francis watched it all happen though, watched Alfred push such things away, watched him fill his head with his mission and Francis's words. When the agent leaned forward, when he initiated a kiss of his own, Francis knew it was time. Alfred wasn't completely relaxed, but he was prepared for this. He was ready.

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As he felt the hands reach for his clothes, as he felt the soft garments lifting away and leaving him exposed, Alfred let the words repeat in his mind. _'I can save them all, I am a hero. Remember this… I can do this. I can save them all…'_ The coolness of the air touching his skin brought tiny goose bumps to his flesh, or perhaps it was the ethereal brushes of Francis's fingertips. As he watched the other man undress him, as he moved his body enough for his lower garments to be removed, Alfred tried to fill his center with calm.

"You're doing well Alfred…" Francis's praise was like water to a parched mind, Alfred soaking it up to help ease away his tension. He watched as Francis stepped back just a pace, deftly stripping away his own clothes. It was certainly a sight, and yet Alfred had a feeling that the teasing manner in which Francis stripped was so ingrained he needed to put no effort into making it seem desirable. On one hand it made the agent feel inadequate, and on the other… on the other… he didn't want to think on that. Not right now. Not if he didn't want to become a jumble of nerves again.

Francis moved, coming to kneel behind Alfred on the bed, shifting the agent's body just slightly so that his full form was displayed in the mirror, Francis right behind him. It was nerve racking to suddenly see it… to be brought face to face with the sight of his naked body in the mirror, with the actual vision of himself with another man. He opened his mouth only to have Francis dip his head at that moment, placing a warm kiss to the nape of his neck. Alfred's words were swallowed by a nervous gasp.

"Pretend Alfred… fantasize about a woman if you must… but do not stop watching." More kisses were lavished upon his neck, Francis's hands sweeping and gliding along the planes of Alfred's back as the moist heat peppered his skin with each kiss. "Learn to marry fantasy with reality… turn your eyes to both if it brings your body to passion…" Francis's low voice consumed his attention, Alfred's breath shuddering through his lips with each word.

Light nips were placed to his neck, a devilish tongue dancing out of well practiced lips, making Alfred want to squirm. This was disgusting… it had to be… it just wasn't right. Alfred didn't even realize he'd begun to bite his lip, didn't realize that he wasn't looking in the mirror… that he was frowning, until fingers moved from his back to caress his face.

"Relax Alfred… relax. Remember your first lesson… this is not so different from being with a woman so far, yes? Watch and see it all…" Alfred felt those fingers touch his lips, coaxing his teeth away from the soft skin. Francis met his gaze in the mirror. "Not every client will be willing to wait for you Alfred… not everyone will lavish you and bring your body to passion first… you must not hesitate… embrace what you feel… make yourself feel if you must."

Something in those words made Alfred's heart clench, made a pain pass through him that had nothing to do with his bruises. How could Francis say such words with ease? Did he speak from experience? Did Francis have to force himself each and every time? Had the defensive tricks transformed Francis into who he was now?

Alfred wondered if perhaps his eyes betrayed him, for the soft and caring look that came to Francis's eyes seemed as though they would answer him. A smile, soft and true, not coy, was offered to Alfred, a running of fingers through his hair. "Mind to your lesson Alfred… you can do this."

He needed it. Each and every time Francis expressed his faith in him, Alfred grew stronger. Each time Francis spoke words like that, Alfred could believe it more. It was one thing to always tell himself that he was the hero… to hear it from another… from someone who could sound so very much like he meant it, brought heat to pool in his stomach. The next kiss that touched his skin seemed to tingle as his mind relaxed to Francis's words. He'd been kissed before… his body knew to enjoy it… don't think about gender right now.

It was strange to be left with nothing to do but watch, it was a change to sit and have his body lavished with attention he normally poured upon his lovers or his clients. Yet anytime he tried to move, any time he tried to reciprocate, Francis turned him away, reminding him to watch. The sense of voyeurism filled him and left his face red. With nothing to do elsewise, his eyes began to follow each and every one of Francis's movements. The hands gliding along his body, running over the dips and ridges of his abs, kneading softly at the taut muscles of his pecs. Alfred's breathing began to come in shorter gasps, light pants that reflected the dizzying sensations working over his body and his skin.

It seemed unreal, it was as though this wasn't happening to him and yet it was. That was his face, flushing further as his blood grew hotter. Those were his hands, clenching to the sheets at his sides, his legs quivering as he tried to hold them still. And behind it all… behind every moan inducing touch, every nerve sparking touch, was Francis. As he watched the other take free reign with his body, Alfred began to realize he couldn't turn his gaze from the mirror now even if he'd wished to. He couldn't even think well enough to know he wished for nothing of the sort.

Francis slipped around him, never obscuring his view completely. He left the bed, and Alfred watched him at first with curiosity and then a nervous anticipation as the other man came to rest in a kneel on the floor between his legs. As enthralled as he was in the moment, deeply engrained alarm bells started to ring in his mind, and he scooted back and away on the bed just slightly. "Whoa whoa… hey now… Francis…"

He shivered as the other man caressed his inner thigh; mischievous blue eyes cast in a glance over Francis's sculpted shoulder, once again their eyes meeting in the mirror. Alfred gulped, noting the look on the other's face. It was predatory… it was intense. It… it sparked in Alfred the need to assert himself. The need to take charge of the situation. It fired something primal inside of him.

He reached out, gripping Francis's shoulder firmly, never tearing his eyes away from the mirror. The older man arched a brow, curious enough to allow Alfred this bit of activity. If only Alfred had any idea what he meant to do at this moment. Thoughts started to cloud and crowd his mind, getting hung up again on the fact that he was with a guy… not a woman. Every urge he typically had seemed incompatible right now… and his aggression seemed to falter. Scowling, he released his grasp, watching Francis intently. He'd received a blow job before… but not from a man. He tried to tell himself it'd be no different… and he watched to convince himself he was fine with it.

He nearly shut his eyes when the first flick of the tongue touched him, as that pleasurable hot wetness began to engulf him. He kept them open though, for if nothing else Alfred could meet a challenge. He could keep his eyes open… he could watch all of this. He stared transfixed as he watched Francis move, watched that repeating motion broken only by variations that sent his back arching and his lips darting open. Less and less he needed to 'remind' himself that he could do this. More and more his mind began to crave it to continue.

He caught sight of his expression. Somewhere in his mind, he felt it wasn't enough. The face he showed now… it didn't express enough. His fear that he couldn't convince a man he was into it seemed to surge up. Alfred rose to this new trial, staring at his face, letting the sensations begin to mold and shape it. He told himself it was his awesome acting that started to paint him with passion. As his reflection began to lose its composure, as the figure before him began to be swallowed by the building fire in his belly and loins, his body seemed to come alive to match it. The act swirled and mixed with reality, and sensation stepped forward to be crowned as king.

He didn't cry out loud when he was brought to his release, but his body shivered and everything but the pleasure became extinct around him. Lungs that'd frozen began to drag in deep pulls of air, and Alfred wasn't even certain if it was his own muscles that dropped him to lie back or a gentle nudge from Francis. All he knew was that soon, soon, he was not alone on the bed. Lying right next to him, stroking his fingers over his cheeks, was Francis. Alfred turned his head, dazed and relaxed, coming down from his bliss. Francis sprinkled kisses over his lips, moving to Alfred's ear.

"Tell me you wish it and I will stop here…"

Alfred blinked slowly, staring at the other man with growing emotion in his gut. He pushed it away, he locked it away. A shaking hand was raised, fingers curling before his thumb jutted up towards the sky. "It'll take more than that to do in Alfred F. Jones. Give me your best shot."

He watched Francis cock his head, as if to doubt he could handle it. Alfred wasn't having any of that. There'd be no backing out for either of them now. No way. He flashed the other a smile, reaching over to flick at those wavy blond strands of hair. "Seriously Francis… I can handle this. I'm not gonna break." It was like telling himself that, yet it was _finally_ sinking in. He'd been making this into such a big deal… he had been so stupid about this. "I. Can. Handle. It." He drove the words home for the other man, and at last Francis nodded his head.

The other slipped from the bed, retrieving the items he'd first gathered. Lubrication… a condom… Francis obviously needed no one to teach him what to do here.

"I need you to watch this very carefully Alfred… I need you to feel and understand this. If… if we are unable to have another lesson before your client… if you do not have the chance to reverse the roles before then… you must take with you what you learn now." Alfred nodded his head. He understood.

"So… what do I do?" Francis touched one of Alfred's legs lightly, urging the knee up. Though it was embarrassing, Alfred took the cue, drawing his legs up and exposing himself. Francis reached for a couple of pillows, offering one for Alfred's head, moving the other to rest beneath the small of Alfred's back, lifting his hips a bit higher. Alfred fought his nerves by committing these steps to memory, the blissful haze of his prior climax beginning to fade away. He watched as Francis began to spread that slick fluid over his fingers, watched in anxious fascination knowing full well where they'd be heading.

Francis fixed him with a gaze, stern and unyielding. "Remember Alfred… no client is allowed to bring you great harm. Remember this, and do not be afraid to put an end to things if you're in danger…"

Alfred actually snickered, though the concern Francis had for him was genuinely touching. He offered the other host a lopsided grin. "Trust me Francis… I don't think you have to worry about me _not_ putting a stop to unpleasant man-sex."

Francis regarded him silently for a moment before scoffing and rolling his eyes. "How foolish of me to worry over a fool like you." He shook his head, fixing a glare that held no heat in it on Alfred. "Are you quite finished killing the mood?"

This touch of humor helping Alfred to relax again, he nodded his head. Francis looked purposely at the mirror, and Alfred knew that was his cue to start watching again. Slick fingers were brought down, and he couldn't help but flinch and jolt when his entrance was touched. It was such a foreign feeling he couldn't help himself, could barely fight the urge to slam his legs together and sit up. He furrowed his brows, holding still as he watched Francis's fingers make their way back.

The touch was cold and wet and just as strange as the first contact, but Alfred handled it this time. He stared at the moving digit as if in doing so he had some measure of control over it, as if there was nothing it could possibly do to him if he didn't let it out of his sight. He watched and felt as it smoothed and slicked over him… _him_… he watched his muscles clench and twitch at the sensations. He held his breath when it became clear it was about to happen… when that first push would be made. _'Here it comes…'_

He clenched, he couldn't help it. The sensation felt entirely wrong no matter how skillful and patient Francis was. If not for his sporadically used self control, Alfred certainly would have called it quits here. This was far too uncomfortable! He worked his mouth open and closed as he watched, fighting the urge to say those surrendering words, looking for a distraction of some sort. His heart raced as he watched that finger slide in and out, and he began to match his breathing to it.

'_Breathe in… breathe out…'_ He didn't even realize that Francis began to adjust his pace a bit quicker, paid no attention to the way the other man intentionally brought his breathing faster. As a second finger was cautiously brought in to stretch, as pain started to join simple discomfort, Alfred tried to lose himself in the rhythm and sight before his eyes. This was his body… his body he was seeing. An odd thrill seemed to grip him, and he embraced it, trying to let the situation swallow him. Oh Alfred had a bit of narcissism, but it'd never been like this.

But it wasn't just his own body he was watching, it was Francis as well, Francis with his careful ministrations. Francis whose fingers moved in him with such precision. Francis whose free hand worked his own body to attention. By the time a third finger came into play, by the time that sweet spot was finally touched, Alfred had begun to watch not only what was being done to himself, but Francis as well. He arched his back each time that spot was touched, gasping and shifting on the sheets.

His body felt hot, his nerves were all on fire. He'd already been sated yet now desire rose again in him. It burned away his inhibitions and prejudices slowly; it stripped him bare to a being of want. A being of need. A being of now. He reached to Francis with one hand, trying to urge him on. "Do it…" he rasped out. The other man crept forward, bringing their lips together for a heated dance of tongues. Breathes mingled, and in this kiss Alfred exerted control, in this kiss he dominated and directed them. It was his breaking of the kiss that sent Francis away, it was his press of a hand that guided Francis into position.

There was no asking if Alfred was ready, he didn't want to hear it. He'd at last been gripped by the haze of passion Francis had warned him he needed, and words at this point would be too much. Verbal lessons could only take him so far… what he needed now was to feel it. Experience it.

The pain that shot through him, no matter how slowly and carefully Francis moved, caused him to grind his teeth. Sharp gasps for air scratched through his teeth as he twisted and squirmed slightly, trying to find some relief from this foreign agony shooting up through him, mingling with the bruises of the morning. Petting hands helped to ease some of the shock to his system, but for the pain to subside Alfred knew what he needed to do. He needed to relax… his body needed to adjust. He screwed his eyes shut just for a moment, recalling every trick he'd been taught for taking pain.

He locked his eyes to Francis, the signal to move. A pace was established, the other host never neglecting Alfred's body, not even when that sweet spot was found once more. Every move Francis made seemed tailored for bliss, with great care and precision the older blond had read Alfred's body, had watched until he'd found the spot that was making Alfred's voice curl from his throat, that brought that flush on his face darker and darker. Later… later Alfred would try to make sense of the lesson, embrace everything it entailed. Right now he was lost to the physical.

He hadn't even realized he hadn't thought about a woman once…

x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x

He knew Alfred wasn't asleep. Not only had he not taken terribly long to clean himself up… but even battered as he was, Francis knew Alfred was full of stamina. The younger blond was sprawled on the bed, resting on his stomach with a pillow cuddled close to his chest. His breathing seemed even and calm now… and it almost could have been mistaken as the rhythm of sleep. Almost. Those blue eyes, though the glasses were gone, watched as Francis moved about.

Neither had said a word since their lesson had ended. Francis had cleaned the agent up before attending to himself… doing all he could to ensure the other seemed alright. Aside from being rather quiet… Alfred seemed far from traumatized. He seemed… if anything… contemplative. _'Well… it is not surprising… not even for him.'_ Deciding to give the younger man his space, Francis began to dress, preparing to leave. He'd not taken three steps towards the door before Alfred's voice captured him.

"Seriously? Man… where's the romance you were talkin' about, huh?" Alfred was smirking at him! "Just gonna sleep with me and run off… your image is ruined Francis… I'll tell the world!" Francis turned to face the imp in the bed, marveling at Alfred's ability to try to make light of just about anything. Such a defense mechanism he had.

When Francis didn't move, Alfred seemed to grow a bit impatient. He patted the side of the bed next to him, fixing a stern look at Francis. "Come on; sit your butt on down here. I think I've earned some sort of reward for this."

Smiling and shaking his head, Francis moved to take his seat as instructed. Alfred did look a bit drowsy, so perhaps he would not be required to do much. Cocking his head to the side, Francis made a questioning gesture with his hand. "And? Just what would you ask of me?"

He hadn't expected the suddenly serious look that passed over Alfred's face, nor did he expect the request that passed through his lips. Quite frankly, it caused a chill to dance over Francis's skin.

"Tell me how they caught you… why are you here?"

* * *

**A/N:**

It is… always a challenge… to not go as graphic with this as I could. I wonder if I won't need to cut it out anyway. We'll see.

Here's a simple question to all you wonderful readers. France's tale of how he came to be a host at the Gallery is coming up next chapter, but he's pretty much the only one who gets his story told in this fic. Would any of you be interested in reading about the tales of some of the other characters prior to this fic's events?

It'd be a separate one shot collection, so you could hear about how Italy and Sweden came to be hosts for example. I could also show a bit more of what the other agents went through before the start of Gallery Nine as well. Just curious if there's an interest, obviously I wouldn't be starting this now since I'm pretty much failing to keep up on my updates as it is.

As always, I adore all the reviews you send me for this fic! I cannot thank you all enough. I may have failed a bit in getting back to everyone's reviews… sorry! I'll do better next time!


	6. Chapter 6

He hesitated, staring down at Alfred, before looking away. _'He wishes to know my story then?'_ It wasn't something he'd told to anyone here… it was his own private cross to bear. He asked no others for the details of their lives; for it was a barrier Francis did not feel it was wise to cross. Small things had come out of course, snippets here and there… but never in such depth as he felt Alfred was looking for now. Letting out a tiny hum, Francis cocked his head to the side, letting his hair fall over his shoulder in a tantalizing display of thinking this over. Casting his blue eyes back to the agent lying at his side, he was almost unprepared for the look on Alfred's face.

'_Who knew he could look so… patient?'_

In the silence between them, in the too comfortable warmth that pooled between their bodies, Francis knew he could easily become lost in this. Sitting here, no reason to hurry away, with someone who wanted him close, who wanted to know him… when had he last had such as this? When was the last time he'd felt so… well, he could admit it, no? He felt rather comfortable, sitting here so close to Alfred, sitting and letting the other watch him and wait on his words. A tiny emotion stirred inside of him. His words… how long since someone had wanted him for his words alone?

'_Ah… but perhaps if he learns my tale it shall help his case… that is the only reason he would ask, no?'_

Leaning over, reaching out to stroke Alfred's cheek, Francis marveled at the way the agent accepted it. Alfred didn't pull away, didn't flinch. There was a tiny sigh; a sound that could have meant so very much, yet a sound Francis decided would be nothing more than a stifled yawn. It was, well, for the best. He shifted so he could relax back a bit, his hands supporting him up as he cast his gaze to the ceiling.

"Well, if you think it will help your case, I'd be more than happy to tell you. I've already made it clear I'll help you any way that I can." He kept his gaze fixed upwards, mind sinking back to memories that were frustratingly mixed between good and bad. He heard Alfred stir, heard him wince as he shifted and sought to be more comfortable.

"You don't have to tell me… I mean if it's really painful for ya but…" Hesitation, what was hidden in that space between words now? "If you could tell me, I want to hear it."

Francis nodded and took in a deep breath, preparing to tell a tale that he'd stopped letting roam through his mind for the most part. A tale where only a few pieces brought him joy, a joy that took him directly into this desperate hell. "As with many great men, dear Alfred, I found my downfall at the hands of a woman." He chuckled, shaking his head as the vision of his younger self sauntered before his mind's eye. "Though, to be honest in my case it was three… though… it will take some explaining."

Shifting yet again on the bed, working to become as comfortable as possible, Francis allowed his arm to come to rest against Alfred. The agent was a soothing sort of warm, and weren't physical comforts the best kind? If the way Alfred seemed to just slightly shift closer was any indication, the other blond perhaps agreed. Francis cleared his throat and spoke once more. "My family was wealthy. Not tremendously so… we weren't so rich that we'd catch the public eye, weren't rich enough to own vacation homes the world over. Nothing of the sort. What we were was wealthy enough to let a foolish son travel about and party away his days until he'd take his place managing as head of the family."

Francis couldn't help but smile fondly at his former self, seeing him in his memories so very clearly. "We were rich enough for me to get into trouble, to plunge blindly about with little common sense… and just rich enough to seem valuable to those who knew it was better to exploit those in our financial range if they didn't wish to be caught." Francis shook his head, a bitter feeling sitting in his chest. "Not that such a thought ever crossed my mind of course. Why, I must admit that I scarcely thought of much more than amorous pursuits"

"So you're still the same then, huh?" Alfred's little jibe caused Francis to stare down at him with a frown. He reached over, pinching Alfred's arm and gaining a whine of protest.

"You're a terrible audience, you know that?" Alfred flashed that stupidly bright grin at him, his eyes seeming a bit more alert and less drowsy than they'd been moments before.

"This was starting to sound a bit serious. I'm more of an action or comedy guy ya know?" Francis was actually puzzled for a moment, wondering if Alfred wasn't taking anything he was saying here seriously. It was… almost offensive. This was a sensitive subject after all. But the more he gazed at Alfred, tried to figure him out, the more he thought he understood this. Alfred wasn't mocking him; he was just… trying to keep his spirits up. Things weren't so terrible if you could laugh about them… or so some people thought. Alfred must have been one of those people. Francis sighed, trying to appreciate the gesture as he flopped down onto the bed. He pressed a finger to Alfred's lips as he settled next to the other comfortably.

"Shush now, no more comments, hmm? It's time to broaden your horizons." Alfred smirked and nodded his head, and Francis shifted so that he had an arm draped carelessly over Alfred's back, his finger tracing meaningless patterns as he fell into his tale.

"Ah… such parties I used to go to… oh the clubs and the bars I would waste away the nights in! I was the king of the nightlife, a veritable god of love amongst mere mortals! Oh Alfred… the world was mine… as was anyone I ever wanted. There was not a beauty that could resist me as I prowled the nightlife, as I hopped not only from club to club but country to country! A shallow life, perhaps… yes… shamelessly hedonistic… but it certainly makes my days here pale in comparison.

"Of course, do not think I traveled about alone. Why… I had two very good friends, and our trio was so very well known at the places we frequented! Celebrities in our own right… the 'bad friends'… or sometimes 'bad touch trio'… that's how they referred to us." Francis's eyes took on a distant twinkle, recalling the faces of his 'partners in crime', wondering not for the first time what they'd been doing all these years. "I wonder if they even remember me now…" The light within his eyes diminished for but a moment before blond tresses were tossed about with the shake of his head. He continued his tale; voice ever composed as he'd learned to keep it.

"Have you ever heard of the islands of Seychelles Alfred?" He paused and watched as Alfred's face scrunched up in thought, the agent mulling it over before slowly shaking his head 'no'. Francis simply smiled and shrugged. "I'd certainly recommend the trip… beautiful really… I'd decided to go on a bit of a getaway you see… just alone, without my companions. They weren't rich, and it wasn't as though I always desired to pay for them to come along."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_The couple laughed, hands dancing across skin as they twined their limbs together, a thin blanket the only thing keeping the sand from dusting their naked bodies. The smooth fairness of Francis's skin contrasted with the heavenly chocolate of his companion, light and dark, opposites even when it came to their hair. Still, as their lips met, as caresses became less playful and far more heated, Francis would have sworn that her dark eyes sparkled much more brightly than his blue orbs ever could. Illuminated only by the moon and the stars, nothing but the night air to clothe and hide them, the pair ignored the world._

_Her voice was as music, a lyrical song to the sound of ocean waves, free and flowing, without shame, without fear. Francis could only try to drink it up, to fill himself with her song as they kissed, as they embraced, as they shared their primal dance for not the first time in his stay. She was no goddess, she was not the embodiment of feminine perfection in form… yet she was impossibly clever… somehow she'd tied a string to his heart, caught him in her fisher's net for the whole of his stay. He moved with her in their passion, and his mind cared not that he'd been almost faithful this trip, he spared no thought to the blindness he'd had to all others since she'd caught his eye._

_Was it witchcraft? Was it some power that wove a spell over him, that made him yearn for her like a fever? Truthfully, Francis didn't care. He would ravish her until the end of his trip, he would delight in everything she had to offer… and he would leave knowing she'd wanted as much from him as he'd wanted from her. A fantasy, a severed moment from reality, painted in lust and longing. No attachments, she never asked for any way to contact him, and he was quite certain he'd never return to her…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"So beautiful Alfred… so very beautiful… yet I never once yearned for her after I left." Part of him felt that he should feel something against her… some childish part of him that he'd long since parted with wished to return. It wanted to hold a grudge… but he couldn't. Perhaps she was indeed the first of the three fates that brought him to the Gallery, but he held no ill will towards her. Not even for what came next.

"My Aphrodite of the island," he mused poetically, still able to imagine her so clearly if he wished to. "I never exactly forgot her… but I'd never expected that in a year, she would find me." He grinned sheepishly at the agent, who watched him with devout attention. "Our passions had left us… careless… and… well of course… these things do happen. It must have been very difficult for her to track me down, though with the reputation I left behind me, certainly not impossible…"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_He held the letter in his fingertips, hardly believing the words that adorned the page, as if the black ink couldn't possibly be there. For a moment he felt anger, betrayal. What… what was this? His father had, of course, warned him of something like this happening. He'd told his son that if he continued the lifestyle that he did, that if he was so very careless to his identity and means, that a scandal would find him in time. Even so, it was bitter to have such a reality forced before his eyes. Had it not been for the carefully chosen words the young man would have most certainly torn the letter to shreds right then and there. His fingers shook with the desire to do so._

_But… but this _wasn't_ blackmail. His mind began to uncoil from the initial rage and… yes, fear… that'd possessed it. Reason, rationality. Those aspects started to sink in, and though Francis had needed to pour himself a glass of wine before continuing, he read the letter once more. This so very simple letter, written as honestly, as kindly, and without any threats. This letter from the island goddess._

Francis,

Forgive me for writing to you, forgive me for breaking the unspoken desire we _both_ shared when it came to our time together. I never had any intention of contacting you, no more than you wished to see me. I have no illusions, I know exactly what it was we had together, and that was what _I_ wanted as well. Please believe me in this.

However… the situation I find myself in… is difficult. Times are very hard for me, Francis, and though I am doing everything I can I find myself… struggling. Struggling to make ends meet, and struggling to care for my precious baby girl.

… _our_ baby girl.

I am sick with shame to write this Francis, and if you have torn this letter up, tossed it to the fire already I wouldn't blame you. I am not blaming you for my situation, I was as careless as you, an equal partner in what we shared. You may have your doubts, you may believe I have conjured you to be the father in part because of all the wealth you boasted of having. However, I know without fail that you are the father of my daughter; there is no question possible in my mind.

I am not asking you to be her father… and to be honest… I do not see our lives intertwining. You have no obligations and duty to me, or to her. It is just… if perhaps you were so inclined… a small bit of help would be… appreciated. I am disgusted with myself for this… but I must find a way to take care of my child… and if I must make a beggar of myself I will do so. There is nothing a mother should not give… even a small piece of my pride is a small price to pay.

I… please know I will never write to you again, nor will I expect anything from you. I will only hope. I am sorry…

_Francis folded the letter, mixed emotions running through him. His aversion to this entire situation was fierce, and he truly did wish to follow through with her suggestions to burn or rip the note. Perhaps he could do both! Honestly… writing such a letter to him… did she have no dignity! It certainly wasn't his fault she had no money, that she'd fallen on whatever hard times she'd fallen upon. No… nothing was his fault! Well… nothing except for this child… supposedly. Was he just to take her word on this? This tale screamed of a scam, and if he were to do the smart thing he'd simply trash this letter and be done with the situation. _

_He shifted the letter in his fingers, rubbing the paper and finally taking note of the additional slip included. Flicking it up before his eyes like a playing card, Francis narrowed his eyes, frowning. It was a photo… a photo of this little child he was supposed to care for, of what was _supposedly_ his daughter! He couldn't help but scoff openly, shaking his head. It looked nothing like him, nothing at all! It was ludicrous to believe you could perceive any sort of distinguishing features on the face of a baby. Why, the little things all looked the same!_

_His blue eyes looked at the picture of the baby, smiling up at the camera with big brown eyes and a fuzz of brown hair coating her head. _'Hmph, you cannot see anything upon this child to connect to me.'_ He looked at the pudgy cheeks, at the round little arms that held a fuzzy fish doll (of all things!) to her chest in happy contentment. No, this little thing, it simply could not be his. This was not his daughter. This was not his child. Francis sneered and tossed the letter into the trash… though he couldn't quite bring himself to toss the photograph as well. That would simply be cruel, throwing a baby picture into the garbage._

_-.-.-.-_

_Of course… he couldn't exactly explain to himself why he still stared at the picture the next morning. He relaxed on top of his bed, his days idle as ever. He turned the picture this way and that, staring at it, watching it, fixated in a way that was absolutely annoying. There was a disgusting feeling in his chest, tight and bitter and painful, constricting his breathing as his thoughts roamed through his head in angry circles. Of course he didn't doubt that there was the _chance_ that he'd sired a child or two in his days… one couldn't live such a playboy lifestyle and not perhaps leave behind a bastard or so… but to suddenly be confronted by the fact… and in such a way!_

_It was blackmail, it had to be. It was greed wrapped up in words to make him seem like the villain, and her the poor victim! If he gave her nothing he would be the one who looked cruel… he would be the one who was in the wrong. Scowling, Francis knew there was no way he could allow this to get out of hand. If his father caught wind of this he might have his inheritance jeopardized! Sighing rather dramatically, he wondered just what his father would advise him to do. It was not as though the Bonnefoy men were known to be angels after all._

"_He would probably buy her silence… one payment then… one lump sum to silence her and be done with this." He had wealth; he could make this very small concession to a woman who'd left him with such fond fantasies to think back to. Yes… this would be fine; this would be over all too soon._

_He fished her letter from the rubbish, extracted her mailing address, and composed his reply, a generous payment included to her. His letter was not so long as hers, succinct, to the point, and very clear that this would be all he would send to her. It was just before he folded the letter to seal it… just before he put down his pen, that a sudden whim bewitched his fingers, tricked them into writing one simple inquiry when he should not have been inviting her to ever write to him again._

"_What is her name?"_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Did she write back?" Alfred's eyes were almost like a child's, his voice drawing Francis back from the past. The older blond nodded, a rich chuckle in his throat.

"Indeed she did… a simple letter full of thanks, of heartfelt appreciation, another photograph and… of course… _her_ name…" He stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes, memories slowly sifting up towards the present. He could feel the question burning on the tip of Alfred's tongue, yet he took his time in answering the question, setting his own pace, letting his story unfold without hurry. "Angelique… a gorgeous name, mm?"

Alfred simply nodded.

"Well… I suppose something within her letter eased the tension inside of me. She was so happy for what I'd done… and she… she apologized that she imposed once more, and she promised that she expected nothing else. We were even, no obligations… it was done. Yet… as the days went by… I found _I_ wasn't finished. I will admit that for many months I expected to receive a letter. I didn't completely trust her. When no letters came though, even after I knew she must have used all of the money I'd sent… well… I wouldn't say I _worried_ over her and the child… certainly Francis Bonnefoy, the lord of lovers, would not do such a thing…"

He trailed off before shaking his head. "I did such a thing. It must have been witchcraft, cast not from the mother but from the daughter. I had no logical reason to Alfred, yet I worried over the little baby. My daughter, a life I'd never even held in my arms. She did not send a second request… _I_ sent another contribution of my own free will. I sent it on my own… and continued to do so until…"

Alfred did not seem to miss the shadow that fell over Francis, for though the agent was aching and sore, exhausted to his core no doubt, the young man shifted his body. He moved to wrap his arms around Francis, the gesture skirting the dangerous line between platonic comfort and something more. Neither man cared to comment on it, they simply accepted the gesture for what it was. Francis soaked in the warmth that radiated from Alfred, and prepared to speak again. He'd introduced the first two fates… it was time to speak of the final woman who'd threaded his destiny.

"My life continued on as ever… for though I now had a daughter, I had no reason to change my ways any further than being more cautious in protection…"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Where had they gotten to… his friends had certainly been seated at the bar only moments ago, hadn't they? Francis flicked his hair over his shoulder, eyes scanning the dance floor. Well… he couldn't be too angry… he'd disappeared on them for a while now, hadn't he? Ah but he couldn't help it, when beauty cried out, begging to be praised as only he could, was it right to ignore it? No, of course not. To deprive the world of his love would be cruel._

_It'd not truly gone anywhere though, and Francis leaned against the bar as he set his mind to finding a new companion for the night. Or, perhaps, companion__**s**__. It was as he examined the writhing dancing crowd that she approached, long silvery hair painted in the rainbow of the club lights. She walked towards him with precision, with grace, with an upward curve of the lips that promised of so very much. It was not an innocent gaze that reached out to him from this petite beauty. This woman, she was not a doe, waiting to be caught. She was a minx, she was a hunter just as much as Francis. He offered her a winning smile, and she left no room between them as she came to his side._

"_You will buy me a drink, before we leave," the utter authority in her tone wasn't new to Francis; he'd had far too many partners to find any approaches new. However it was always refreshing to have such a strong willed woman come to his side. Love could bloom in so very many different shades and variations, all with such delicious results. He brushed his fingers over her shoulder, sweeping her hair from her ear and leaning down to whisper to her through the music._

"_Ah, but I do not even know your name…" She grasped his hand, bringing it down to rest upon her chest as she captured him with her eyes. It wasn't fire that smoldered in her gaze, no… it was something breathless and chilling, passionate without a flame._

"_But I know yours…" Intrigued, Francis could only smile. She was a predator indeed._

_-.-.-.-_

"_Who is this?" Francis looked up from where he was lying, lounging in a pile of sheets and blankets, his body flushed and comfortable from their shared passions. His consort for this night, Natalia as she'd informed him between heady kisses, was sitting up and flicking through his wallet. He had to smirk at her nerve, for the woman certainly seemed certain of herself in all things. It was as though she'd take arguments from no one, as though she was entirely free to do everything and anything she wished to do. It was rather fun in a way, and it'd led to quite a few kinky twists for them._

_Shifting and oh so subtly pulling the sheet she'd wrapped about her body down, Francis peered at what she was holding. It caught him a bit off guard when he realized what it was, mostly as he hadn't realized he hadn't removed it before heading out to the club. "Ah… that is my daughter…"_

_Natalia stiffened, and Francis couldn't truly blame her. There was always something off putting about finding out you'd slept with someone with children. Natalia turned a curious gaze towards him, though Francis had failed to notice how calculating it was, far more interested in enjoying his companion's physical beauty. "I did not know you were married…"_

"_I'm not…" he murmured as he kissed along her shoulder, moving in to grace her neck as well. She tilted her head to the side, inviting the gesture yet not relaxing into the moment. Francis could tell her mind was miles away, her mood completely contrasting to his own. "Does this bother you?"_

_Natalia merely shook her head, shifting slightly so she could peer at him far too seriously. Francis leaned back, arching his eyebrows, an invitation to ask about whatever was on her mind. "Do you love her? This little girl?"_

_Well… it certainly seemed as though their lovemaking was at an end. Francis rose from the bed gracefully, stepping away to pull on a robe, holding one out for Natalia to take as well. When one lived as Francis did, it only made sense to have clothes of the sort for guests. Taking a seat so they could converse comfortably, the young man nodded. "I suppose you could say I do. Truthfully, I have never seen her, never even held her. Yet… somehow… I've come to care for her. Supporting her from afar."_

_There was something strange about Natalia's smile, about the way her finger seemed to rub against the photo in her hand. "I see… so you would not wish to see any harm come to her… right?"_

_Francis could feel an uncomfortable twitch develop between his eyes, distinctly unsettled by the direction this conversation was flowing to. Something in his gut told him to lie, something inside warned him that he was in danger. His eyes flicked towards the door to the room, an accidental gesture that Natalia didn't seem to miss. Still, even as she rose to move to her own clothes, she waited patiently on the answer. Guarded, Francis answered her at last._

"_I do not wish harm to come to anyone; I shouldn't think many people would…" Her back to him, Francis was grateful he couldn't see her face, only forced to hear the laughter that spilled from her lips. High sharp laughter, filled with scorn and malice. Triumphant laughter that froze the man to the core, left him paralyzed where he sat. He could feel his muscles seize and tense when she turned, having drawn a knife from the folds of her discarded clothes. He sucked in a breath, mouth going painfully dry._

"_My brother was only too right… as he always is. You are the perfect target for us." She advanced towards him slowly, closing the distance by mere centimeters at a time it seemed. The knife was held in her hand, such a casual companion familiar to her fingertips. "Oh we had already planned so very many ways to make you do as we wished… but to think you would give us something more… something much more lasting…"_

_A flushed sort of pleasure came to her face, far more passionate than she'd been during their lovemaking. "Brother will be so pleased…" A shuddering sigh escaped her lips, the sigh of a woman enraptured in adoration._

_Francis's eyes darted about, seeking a way out, as his body rose, belatedly working to create space between himself and this unstable woman. She pounced on him in an instant however, knife flashing forward as she pinned him savagely to the bed sheets. While having a woman on top was always thrilling, this was decidedly _not_ the way it was supposed to be. Like a shroud her hair fell and pooled around them, as if cutting them off from the rest of the world as she brought her face so very close to his. The point of the knife at his throat kept him still but not silent._

"_What is this, what do you want?" He sneered at her, knowing all too well the answer. "Money no doubt."_

_Natalia smiled though there was no sweetness to the gesture. "Of course. My brother has big plans… and such plans require funding. You will be donating your fortune to him… and now I think so much more. You should be happy you get to help him like this… you should be happy to know you will be saving your daughter from a terrible… _terrible_… life…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Alfred's arms were tense around him, and Francis could feel the accelerated rate of the younger man's heart. His own was beating rapidly as well, how could it not? This… this was the part of his past he hated. This was the moment he regretted. With a resigned sigh that could never convey just how futile this all seemed, Francis offered Alfred a wan smile. "I suppose you can certainly guess at what came next. While they'd originally only intended to strong arm me into giving away my family's fortunes… once they saw another potential bargaining chip they… upped the stakes.

"They promised me that if I came here… if I became a host and continued to help them profit… they wouldn't touch my darling Angelique. They promised they would even continue to send her payments as if everything was fine. They assured me… they promised me… though the threats they made were much more effective. How could I Alfred… even if she were a stranger… how could I think to sacrifice anyone to this sort of life? A child now… still protected by her youth… but… I could not allow them to claim her."

He shook his head, a bitter feeling swelling above his heart. "I did as they wished Alfred… I gave them all of my family's money, which of course pleased my father! He… well… I suppose I should no longer call myself a Bonnefoy, if his final words to me over the matter mean anything."

Shifting in Alfred's arms slightly, he stared into eyes that carried pain and outrage, strong emotions all on his behalf. It made Francis want to curl into the other man's embrace, for once since this whole ordeal had happened let someone comfort him over this. He almost did, his body moving closer, his head leaning closer so he could drink in the embrace of the other for at least a few moments more. He had only wished it to be a minute, but Alfred pulled him closer, the strength of his conviction radiating through strong arms.

Of course Francis didn't cry, but he let out a broken cough, letting his hands clutch to Alfred for now, taking solace in the agent. It was so nice at last… he was always providing comfort to the other hosts, always helping them through things. He never asked for the same treatment, never would, even if he knew some of them would gladly offer it to him. _'I am responsible for them…'_ He wasn't certain anymore why he'd become so in the very beginning, but he would never give up this brotherly role.

Carefully he pulled from Alfred's arms, so very reluctant to do so, but knowing he must. He could not deny the closeness forming between them, but he would be careful with it. Too much was at stake. "There may be no one waiting for me out there Alfred… no family wondering where I am, no daughter confused about never seeing her father. My disappearance from the outside means nothing… but the others… they all have someone waiting for them… seeking them out."

Bowing his head, Francis couldn't meet the other's eyes. He let his lids slide shut, feeling suddenly so very weary, no doubt the talk of his past draining him. "Use me any way you can Alfred, there is nothing I won't do for this…" He would repeat those words, that sentiment, a thousand times… he'd say it every time he spoke to Alfred if he had to. Rising from the bed, he turned away. If Alfred succeeded, he'd also be saving his Angelique, removing a threat that loomed over her head without the little girl ever knowing. "Now get some rest…"

He needed to leave. It wasn't truly a safe place, but he needed the solitude of his room for now, so that he could sort his memories back where they belonged. He'd almost made it to the door when Alfred called out to him, stopping him for a moment. "Your friends…"

Francis leveled him with a confused smile, and Alfred forced his body to sit up, trying to hide the pain that was all too obvious. "My friends…?"

"The other members of your trio thing… I'm sure they're waiting for you." Despite how sure Alfred sounded of this, Francis simply shook his head.

"I doubt it…" Alfred cut him off.

"But they were with you the night Natalia got to you, right? Didn't they get in contact with you after that? Before you got dragged into… into... _this?_ Even if it was just to complain about you ditching them at the club?" The agent seemed determined for this to be true, though Francis only shook his head.

"You make it seem as though that was not a common thing for me to do. No Alfred… I'm certain they must have forgotten me… yes… yes it only seems right that they would have by now." Alfred frowned, gritting his teeth but giving up for the moment. It was a bittersweet way for the two to part, the door clicking shut softly sounding as morose as both men no doubt felt.

x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the tap on his shoulder, hand instinctively reaching for his firearm even though he wasn't wearing it at the moment. His heart racing, he turned angry eyes at the figure that'd shocked him. Yes yes, it was a bit juvenile to get angry at someone for accidentally scaring you, he really should have been paying better attention to things, but it was a natural reaction. He couldn't help it. Matthew shrunk back away from him, though the young man was long since used to this sort of reaction from Arthur.

"Oh… I… when did you get here?" Smoothing down the folds of his shirt, Arthur stepped a bit away, leading Matthew towards the clothing with the bugging devices so carefully sewn in.

"Just a moment ago," Matthew said, biting back a comment about how silly it would have been to loiter here without letting Arthur know. Instead he took in the look of Arthur's current residence, wincing at the sight of lace doilies and floral prints.

It was, of course, dangerous for any of the agents to come to Arthur's (or rather Gareth's) home in person, but Matthew could be trusted to do it without fail. It had always been the young man's specialty, and while any of the others could quite possibly be trailed no matter how careful they were, Matthew just seemed to have a talent for this. Going about places unseen… he was the perfect spy, the perfect complement to his brother. There was a reason the two were a team in their field.

"How are things going with the others? Any progress since we last were in communication?" Arthur watched as Matthew carefully tucked the clothes away in a messenger bag, the younger man looking up once done and shaking his head.

"Not so well. Ludwig's run into some pretty impressive security measures, so he's trying to call in a few favors. It's tough… it is our group's assignment after all… his contacts are all busy on their own cases." Hefting the bag over his shoulder, Matthew politely declined Arthur's silent offer of tea. He was anxious to get back, begin analyzing the interview for any clues. "Antonio actually left the store… one of his contacts thinks he might know something about this 'Poland' that you spoke of, though he didn't seem terribly hopeful about the lead."

Matthew shrugged softly, gaze trailing down to the floor. "He promised to be back before your, ahem, meeting…"

Arthur coughed, nodding his head. Yes… his 'meeting'. He could see Matthew begin to fidget, and a small smile found its way to Arthur's face. "It'll be alright, lad. I promise, we'll get your fool of a brother out safely."

Matthew met his gaze, only the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Do you actually think there's a chance your meeting will be with him? And… what if it isn't? What will you do then, eh?"

Arthur walked forward, putting a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, squeezing it gently as a show of support. There were so many possibilities ahead of them with this little appointment at the Gallery… so many scenarios that could happen. Arthur knew he was taking a risk, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Alfred had jumped in without a thought… certainly Arthur could handle the situation if he went in prepared.

"If it's not Alfred I'll deal with the situation. Considering my cover story, I don't think it'd be terribly unlikely for Gareth to lose his nerve over this. Of course, it _was_ quite a bit of money to pay for this appointment… but they seem rather determined to please the clients they accept… I'm certain I can use this to my advantage."

Matthew nodded at him, trusting Arthur to be perfectly capable. With a stern look in his eye, the younger man had one last request before leaving back to their base. "If you _do_ end up seeing Alfred… give him a punch to the arm for me, eh? For worrying us all with his heroics."

Arthur laughed, nodded his head. "Oh don't worry… I'll be certain to properly chastise the git. You can be sure of that."

* * *

**A/N:**

So… there we go… Francis's tale. Seychelles's mother is just a random OC, hence my total refusal to even name her, haha. And heeeey… vague FrBelarus but not, lol.

Can we all guess which character will (eventually) be entering our little tale here, eh? Trio forever! Ha.

For those wondering (if you've noticed) why this fic changed to having Alfred and Arthur listed as the characters now (instead of Francis as it was), allow me to explain. It was very kindly pointed out that I have essentially two stories/main narratives running here… Alfred's on the inside and Arthur's on the outside. Honestly I wish I could list all 3… but yes… that's the reason for the change. I updated the description to show that of course, this story remains FrUS! Not USUK (thouuuuuugh… next chapter… haha…)

Thank you as always for the reviews, I adore you my wonderful reviewers. You all have earned free memberships to Gallery Nine!


	7. Chapter 7

A knock on his door, followed by a polite pause, and Alfred had company. It was a bit rude but he kept his blue eyes trained to the floor, not so much in denial but still struggling with the concept of what he was about to do. Toris cleared his throat lightly before speaking. "Please come with me Alfred."

Looking up from where he was seated on his bed, Alfred was possessed of the very ridiculous notion that this must be what prisoners on Death Row must feel like when summoned for their execution. Oh he rolled his eyes at the thought immediately; there was no comparison between the situations. Still, reality had never stopped Alfred from playing up the drama of any given situation in his mind before. After all, things were always more heroic feeling if the danger was imagined greater than it really was.

Alfred was totally a hero, of course, but he couldn't shake the nagging thought that he wouldn't mind another hero jumping in and giving him a hand here, maybe a plucky sidekick. Or Francis. He wouldn't mind having that man here for some quick words of support. Oh the other host had stayed with him as long as he could, coaching him and trying to keep him calm with gestures so very tender it was soothing, but he was now with a client. Work came first here, the hosts had no choice. Alfred nervously smoothed his sweaty palms against his pants before flashing a wavering grin to Toris. The usher waited for him at the door, looking almost apologetic.

It was go time. "Yeah sure, let's do this."

He left his room and followed Toris as confidently as he possibly could, trying to project everything he wasn't feeling. Beside him, as the two headed down the hall for the stairs to the second floor, Toris was very quiet. If Alfred hadn't been wrapped up so tightly in his own situation, he might have noticed the pensive glances from the brunette, the aborted starts of words and phrases. Alfred was not the only one with something on his mind. As they reached the bottom of the stairs to the second floor, the music of the club below could just barely be heard, sending small vibrations through the floor and walls.

"Umm… Alfred?"

Toris had slowed just slightly, as if hesitant to get to their destination. All things considered, the agent was perfectly happy to slow down as well. He cocked his head to the side as he waited to see if the usher would speak up again. The man seemed stuck in his inner debate, however, so Alfred did what he could to help him out.

"Ya want to ask me somethin' buddy?" He kept his tone bright and casual, soaking up this distraction eagerly. Getting closer to Toris was something he'd been hoping for anyway. Toris was pretty close to one of the bosses, according to Francis, so it was worth a shot to see if he could be made into an ally. The silent seconds started to stretch, however, and Alfred's panic meter spiked up into paranoia, wondering if Toris was suddenly uneasy about leading Alfred to some sort of horrible death.

Toris sent a furtive glance to the left and right before sincere and almost desperate eyes locked onto Alfred's blues. "I'd like to speak to you… in private. It's very important, will you find a way to meet me at my room?"

He could feel his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Alfred tried to play it cool otherwise. He nodded his head slowly before his brain really had a chance to fully process the request. Toris's room was nearest to the fourth floor out of all the third floor living spaces, which meant Alfred would have to pick a careful time to go over there. Still, he was curious to see what information could be gleaned. "Sure thing…"

"It doesn't have to be tonight," Toris added hastily, and Alfred wondered if maybe that was a warning to stay away tonight. "But… soon… please…" He wasn't sure why, but the blonde felt as though Toris had wanted to say something else.

There was no chance to find out, however, for the door to his client's room loomed right before them. It was a bit underwhelming that it was just a typical looking door. Some sort of crazy dungeon door felt more appropriate to Alfred's wild imagination. "Well, guess this is me," he said, trying to crack a joke. Toris nodded, so sober and serious it almost seemed painful.

"Remember, you promised to come talk to me, ok?" Alfred blinked in confusion, but nodded. _'He's trying to tell me something... just say what you want!'_ But it was not to be. Whatever question or request Toris wanted to utter was never said. The usher offered him a faint smile and took a step back. As usual, he'd wait to make sure Alfred entered, and that the client didn't immediately throw him out or anything.

Alfred took in a deep breath, clapped his hands together once to psyche himself up, and grabbed the doorknob. Giving himself a mental countdown, he got ready to turn the knob and enter. _'Three… two… one… go!'_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Arthur nearly flinched when the door suddenly flew open, hand wanting to dart for his gun (even though he wasn't wearing it). His heart hammered as his adrenaline surged for a moment, only for it to seem to stop altogether when he caught sight of who was standing in the doorway. His green eyes widened just a fraction before he schooled his expression. He could not give away that he knew the man walking in, could not compromise him so stupidly. Yet... there he was.

Alfred: looking healthy and fit and more stylish than he'd ever seen the other agent.

Alfred: in the flesh, so very close to him after months of no contact, and shooting a smile fit to blind a man.

Arthur couldn't deny the wave of relief that swept over him, so intense that he nearly felt dizzy. Alfred paused to toss a thumb's up to the usher, then shut the door, leaving the two of them alone in the room. Arthur waited, making no move. Alfred took a few steps inside, smiling and casual, using his hands to make gestures that seemed mundane and ordinary, but certainly weren't. Alfred made a precise series of gestures as he'd been trained to do, something that could be brushed off as just trying to make sure his hair looked alright. That certainly wasn't Alfred's concern right now.

The information was clear, the message sent. There were both video and audio surveillance present in the room, unconfirmed if the closed circuit feed was backed up and saved. It might simply be a precaution, a live non-archived feed there only so that the guards and bouncers here would be able to react if things went bad. However, it was also entirely likely and quite possible that the Gallery saved footage and sound from every session held here. It'd provide great potential in blackmail material. _'However, if we can get our hands on the footage instead, it may prove to be significant evidence.'_

Still... if they could be seen and heard tonight, then this meeting was going to be a little tricky. Arthur was prepared (as well as a straight bloke could be prepared to enlist the services of a male prostitute anyway), but more than that he was a professional. As such he worked to remain in character, keeping his posture shy and uncertain as 'Gareth' watched his host for the night walk towards him. His green eyes keen, Arthur took this moment to see how Alfred was._  
_

It actually seemed as if this place might have had a good effect on him, so far as his body went. Dressed as Alfred was, Arthur couldn't possibly not notice the rather cut six-pack Alfred's abs now sported, or that the muscles on his arms stood out a bit more. Alfred had always been very strong and fit, no mistake about it. However, his near constant diet of burgers had always left Alfred looking a bit soft, especially around the middle. Considering the Gallery probably didn't want fat hosts with poor skin complexion, Arthur had a feeling Alfred's diet here was probably a vast improvement.

The younger agent changed course for just a moment and poured them a couple of drinks from the wet bar in the corner of the room, something that Arthur thought he desperately wanted but shouldn't partake in. No no, he needed his head as clear as possible here if he and Alfred were going to slip any communications back and forth without notice. When the glass was carried to him, Alfred offering it to Arthur with that smile of his still in place, he knew it was time to start.

Arthur took the drink, sipping it carefully though mostly just miming the act. Alfred moved to sit beside him, drinking deeper of his drink. It made Arthur's eyebrow twitch, but perhaps the lad had built up a bit of a heavy tolerance here. Arthur certainly thought it likely. Still, Alfred looked casual and comfortable, very much encroaching in his personal space yet leaving just enough room not to overwhelm. It allowed Arthur an even better look at the younger agent, body on display in an unintentionally intentional manner. It was a pose meant to be hard to ignore, and Alfred looked very good. Although… was that a… bruise? Some of Alfred's torso seemed slightly discolored, and he frowned. Alfred arched his brows, a faint smile on his face as he moved to put an arm behind Arthur on the backrest of the loveseat.

His first instinct was too scoot away and yell at Alfred for being daft. Now was not the time for old habits between them, though. Tonight they were for all intents and purposes strangers. Arthur gave himself a good mental slap before trying to get back into character. Using this as a good reset point, he held out his hand to Alfred. "My name is Gareth… nice to meet you."

Alfred shifted, moving his drink to the table so that he could shake Arthur's hand without moving his arm from behind the older agent. In fact, his movements had forced his arm off the back of the loveseat, and Alfred had moved his arm to rest over Arthur's instead as if he had every right. Arthur's face wanted to scowl so very much. Alfred had always been a touchy-feely causal sort of person, never believing in personal space, but this was rather a bit intimate rather fast, wasn't it?

The younger agent's hand lingered holding Arthur's not releasing it after the shake, instead holding on and rubbing his thumb lightly over Arthur's knuckles. It gave him the chills, though not in any sort of good way. He tried to convey, discreetly mind you, with his eyes that Alfred was laying it on far too strong here. The stupid git seemed to miss the message entirely... or ignore it.

"Nice to meet ya Gareth," and Arthur really hated to admit that there was something charming in Alfred's sunny uncomplicated voice. It was a disarming effect he'd seen Alfred put to use many a time, getting people to open up to him through persistent good natured conversation. "I'm whoever you'd like me to be tonight."

Arthur didn't fight the confusion that passed over his face, though he did keep back the frown. "Whoever I'd like you to be...?"

Alfred offered an almost sheepish little smile, so very in character you'd almost think he'd taken acting lessons. _'Or perhaps he's simply done this so often it's become routine.'_ Alfred squeezed Arthur's hand just a bit tighter. "Sorry, they usually tell me a bit about whoever I'll be spending some time with... normally I'd know. But... this time I think I'll have to do it the old fashioned way. What did you come here for tonight Gareth? To get away from your life for a bit? To have someone to talk to...?"

Alfred trailed off, and he sounded oddly hopeful. Arthur hesitated, waiting for Alfred to continue on towards the more... perverse options. He certainly didn't want to be the one to have to say it! There was a glimmer of something that flashed in Alfred's eyes as the seconds passed, something actually quite horrified. Arthur felt he was missing something very obvious. Alfred leaned in a bit closer, face smiling and encouraging even if that worried look lingered. "Gareth... did you come here for something..._ more_, than just companionship?"

Arthur's mind suddenly snapped back in time, thinking back to an assessment made about the Gallery's activities. _'Gallery Nine was a world you could turn to if you were looking to find a companion. The second floor of the club was devoted to the fulfilling of dreams, to the bringing together of people and desire. Private rooms of all decor and theme filled the second floor of Gallery Nine, and whatever your fantasy was, the 'hosts' of the Gallery were there to provide it for you. From **quiet honest companionship** to deliriously deviant dalliances, the second floor offered it all to those few precious patrons allowed up...'_

His blood ran to ice for a moment right before it flared up to a blazing heat. His hands clenched, nostrils flaring as he tried to rein in the urge to find that stupid blond who'd done his entrance interview _and baited him into having homosexual sex_ rather than just letting him have a quiet chatty evening! Good lord, Arthur wanted to scream at that horrible conniving bastard, and he wanted to smack himself for being so preoccupied he didn't even _think_ to say all he wanted was companionship. God! He'd botched this!

He must have gone a bit blind in his rage, for he slowly became dimly aware of Alfred waving his hand in front of his face, talking to him. "Gareth? Hey, hello? Earth to Gareth? Gary? Come on, talk to me buddy, snap out of it Gary..."

"It's Gareth, don't call me that," Arthur muttered, feeling numb and deciding to down his drink all in one go. He was feeling rather stupid at the moment, why not add to that stupidity while letting the alcohol do its work? As he looked in the direction of the wet bar, Alfred subtly took his glass away, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder after setting it out of reach.

"Hey, are you ok though? It's... alright. Sometimes clients aren't quite ready... it's ok. We can end this, the usher can take ya back out and you can talk about refunds and stuff..." Caring and sympathetic as he was being, Alfred looked miserable at the thought of Arthur leaving, of this too short meeting being wasted. Arthur felt pity for the poor lad, and pulled himself together. What had he been telling himself before? He was a _professional_. One little mishap wasn't enough to sink a mission. No, if Alfred had any information, Arthur would do what he could to receive it. _'Oh god, phrase that differently!'_

"No, no... that's quite alright. I'm... ah... I'm sorry. I'd... really thought I... wouldn't be forced to say... this is all so embarrassing..." He bit down on his lip, hanging his head just slightly. Alfred scooted closer, reaching out a hand to cup Arthur's cheek. The two agents locked eyes, Alfred asking Arthur silently if this was really ok, and Arthur doing everything he could to assure Alfred that he was prepared to do whatever necessary.

"We'll take this slow," he murmured softly, and with an amazing amount of gentleness that Arthur never would have thought the blunt young man possessed, he leaned forward. Arthur tried not to flinch as he prepared for the kiss, and he had to remind himself to breathe as well.

Lips never quite met his though, and he felt warm breath exhaled against them instead of any contact. Quiet and low, barely louder than their breathing, Alfred seemed as if he was chuckling a bit. "God Artie, sex? Really? Are you that hard up?"

Indignation painted Arthur's cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and seemingly getting caught up in the moment, he reached out with his hand to fist it painfully in Alfred's hair. Discreetly of course, very much on the sly. "Shut up git, I wouldn't even be here if you weren't too daft to do your job quickly." He moved with Alfred as they faked this kiss, eyes nearly closed yet examining the room they were in from the corner of his eye. "The mics aren't sensitive enough to pick us up, you're certain?"

Alfred suddenly wrapped his arms around Arthur, gripping him in what felt like a bear hug before maneuvering Arthur on his back on the loveseat. Alfred knelt over him, looking marvelously disheveled (if... you were into men, looking that way). He licked his lips, smiling down at him before bending slowly to 'kiss' Arthur again. "Yeah, I've whispered some pretty odd things, trying to get them to react. Though... if 'Gareth' would enjoy some mood music it wouldn't hurt..."

Arthur knew that was his cue, quietly pushing Alfred up and away from him, having a sudden fit of nerves. "Ah... w-wait... this is so... I mean." He sat up a little, and oh wow look, there _was_ a music player in the room. "Perhaps... erm... maybe some music? I'm sorry, I'm... I've never..."

Oh he could tell that Alfred wanted to laugh at him, but instead the agent kept himself in check. "Sure thing Gary! It's ok, whatever you want is what we're here for..." With a puppy's exuberance, he moved off the loveseat and over to start up the music. He didn't turn it up significantly loud, and Arthur wondered if there was a volume setting the hosts had been instructed never to go over. All the same, it would help them remain discreet. "Better?"

Arthur nodded while sitting himself up properly. He hadn't been pleased at all to have been pinned beneath Alfred like that, not one bit. The younger agent let his head fall to the side, furthering the puppy motif, taking note of Arthur's refusal to lie down and take it. Smiling as if everything was sunshine and happiness, Alfred took a seat next to Arthur. Without asking he took hold of Arthur's forearm, pulling a bit and, with a bit of fumbling, guided the older agent to sit straddling his hips. Arthur was quite certain his thighs were about to get the workout of his life, for he absolutely refused to actually sit on Alfred's crotch.

Alfred seemed perfectly happy at this, reaching up with one hand to guide Arthur forward into a 'kiss' so they could continue their talk. As they performed their parody of a make out session, Arthur simply had to ask. "Are you really alright Alfred? It... are you hurt? You look bruised."

Alfred let out a sigh through his nose, running one hand along Arthur's back rather absently. "I'm fine. I just... got worried I was taking too long... tried to rush and sort of got caught. Ended up going down the stairs the fast way the other day, if ya know what I mean."

Arthur frowned, letting his hands rest on Alfred's shoulders. That noise... "So then, was that you I heard? Of course it would be, it'd have to be you being so loud."

Alfred let out a little pout, giving Arthur's side a little pinch in retaliation. "So _anyway_, I'm fine. But I have confirmed it, Lovino's brother Feliciano _is_ here, and from all the times the kid's tried to escape it's pretty obvious he doesn't want to be here anymore, not that he ever did. I've talked to him a bit, and yeah, he didn't come here willingly either."

Arthur nodded, paying close attention now. "Tell me everything you've found."

Alfred gave a hum of agreement, shifting his body slightly beneath Arthur as if getting further in the mood. The older agent was rather pleased at his ability to not flinch away as if he'd been tossed in ice. "First though, I gotta tell you the names of the other hosts trapped here. Not a single host wants to be here Artie, and we _gotta_ get them out."

Arthur moved one of his hands from Alfred's shoulder, petting it through the other's hair. "We will, we will. That's part of taking down the Gallery, after all."

"Right," Alfred murmured, licking his lips out of nervous habit and, therefore, ending up licking Arthur's with as close as they were. Alfred actually flushed at that, and Arthur wasn't sure he hadn't as well. This was all so awkward. "Well, you know Feliciano. Then there's Francis Bonnefoy, Berwald Oxenstierna ..." Alfred rattled off his list, slowly and carefully, trying to make certain Arthur would remember all the names precisely. He didn't know the spelling for them all or anything, but Arthur was certain they'd be able to research these individuals now. "There was also someone else... some Asian guy... I don't know if he's a host... I've never seen him on our floor... but it looks like they're keeping him here, drugged up pretty heavily."

It was as Alfred started to discuss his adventure to the fourth floor and his drug suspicions that Arthur lost some of his composure. Alfred's hand had wandered down his back and was currently groping at his rear. He let out a tiny little squeak, demanding with his eyes what the hell Alfred thought he was doing. The younger agent paused in what he was saying, an almost stricken look in his eyes. "Artie... we gotta sell this..." If it weren't for the sincere look in Alfred's eyes, the crystal clear way Arthur could see how much Alfred didn't want to do this, he might have been upset. But Alfred was seriously trying here, and he looked miserable to think he was forcing Arthur to undergo this.

"It's fine, lad, you just surprised me." He swallowed, knowing that considering what he'd ordered... this was the least of his worries. Trying to project his understanding, he looked Alfred straight in the eye. "I'm fine, with everything we need to do here. I understand, don't worry." Like so many times when Arthur had all but played big brother to the blond in the past, Alfred seemed very relieved. He returned to his tale, mentioning the two bosses, Ivan and the other Asian one who he so rarely ever saw. Alfred spilled his guts on everything he knew, employee habits, the names he knew. Granted, Alfred only knew first names (and oh Arthur would be making 'Poland', or rather Feliks, pay later), but it was a good deal more than they had known.

"I still don't have any good solid hard evidence for you to physically carry out of here yet though. It's gotta be kept on the fourth floor, and I'm having a really hard time getting up there. I'm... I'm pretty trapped Artie. I'm watched pretty closely even if they aren't suspicious, and my free time is pretty sparse." Alfred's voice nearly rose in his frustration, and Arthur 'shushed' him softly.

"Don't worry, you'll find a way up there, and we'll keep working on our end of things." Attempting another raid would just be a failure, Arthur knew this. But, perhaps with a bit of an inside edge now, they would find some way to take _some_ sort of action. Once Alfred had exhausted the things he had to report, Arthur in turn gave Alfred a bit of an update about what they were doing on the outside. The younger agent seemed to perk up hearing about their investigations, and to hear about his brother. He was happy to know he hadn't been forgotten, and that everyone was fine.

"So..." Arthur said slowly, realizing they'd reached the end of what they needed to speak on. Alfred picked up on this, echoing his statement.

"So..." The big question remained. What next? Alfred shifted a little, considering. "Uh, if you want, I can do something stupid... make it seem like I pissed you off? Made you want to back out of the actual... _you know_...?"

As much as that sounded like a lovely idea, Arthur knew he couldn't go with it. "Wouldn't you get in trouble?" He didn't want any more negative attention sent Alfred's way. "We don't want to blow your cover."

"I could take it..." Alfred said, not afraid of the pain a possible punishment might bring. If it protected Arthur from something he didn't want, he'd be happy to play hero. Arthur knew this all too well, but he still couldn't allow it.

"Look... it'd be ideal if I could come back here again... specifically to meet with _you_. That can happen, right?" Alfred nodded his head.

"Yeah, Francis has some regulars, heck I have a few already, too." Arthur arched his brows at this news, and Alfred had the cheek to look a bit cocky.

"Well, I don't expect they'll understand my wanting to visit you again if I don't leave... ah... satisfied." Why? Why was he so committed to his work? As it was, he was quite possibly putting his job in jeopardy for soliciting a prostitute (essentially). They still weren't certain if Alfred would even be able to retain his job when this was all over either, his current activities a blemish that would permanently scar his previously spotless record. But, taking down the Gallery was greater than they were. It would be worth it, even if in the end they were reduced to grocery clerks or something.

Alfred closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a great sigh, before hugging Arthur closer, tilting his head to speak in his ear. "Then trust me Artie... I know what to do..."

The confidence in Alfred's voice made Arthur swallow in reflex, and he nodded his head. He felt Alfred sit forward more beneath him, and Arthur was sure his legs were going to give out before long here. Alfred must have felt them shaking, for he pushed on Arthur a bit, getting him to finally sit properly. It was a mild relief to know that Alfred hadn't been sitting here aroused all this time... but surely he was going to need to be? That question would be answered later, for soon the younger agent was working at Arthur's clothes, slowly stripping them away.

He had to repeat in his mind that this was nothing, that they'd seen each other in communal showers before during training. This was no big deal. It was nothing. Still, it was daunting and embarrassing and a decided blow to his masculine pride when Alfred lifted him up so that they could work Arthur's pants off. Good gods he was naked now, sitting on Alfred's lap, facing the blue eyes of his old friend and pseudo little brother.

"I need you to get hard, Artie," Alfred whispered, his hand moving to a very specific location slowly. "And I... I'm going to..."

Ah, right then. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to fixate on former girlfriends and perverted magazines, working to visualize something other than this unpleasant situation. His heart pumped a bit wildly as he nervously anticipated it coming, something he'd _never_ thought he'd do with Alfred in a million years. Fingers wrapped around his still rather flaccid length, and Arthur took in a deep breath through his nose. _'Dirty thoughts... dirty thoughts... come on now, you know you have them...'_

Alfred moved his fingers slowly at first, as if trying to coax some life into Arthur. There were no immediate vigorous movements, no frantic jerking. It was almost closer to being palmed, though as Alfred's hand continued to work over him with a surprising amount of dexterity, Arthur could feel his body begin to get into the swing of the situation. Dirty thoughts and a disturbingly talented hand. Alfred had been here far too long. Arthur let his eyes linger closed, breathing beginning to hitch as he allowed himself to get lost in this situation. Best not to draw it out... best to stop thinking how wrong this was and just feel it instead.

He shivered when he was suddenly abandoned, eyes opening just in time to watch Alfred bring his hand up, licking his palm, running his tongue over and between his fingers to make them slick. Arthur shut his eyes quickly, not terribly sure how he felt about the sight, his libido spiked to the point where just maybe, _maybe_, he'd found that sight rather hot. He was probably going to need some sort of therapy for this, or quite a few drinks. The drinks sounded better.

But soon Alfred's hand was wrapped around him again, warm and wet and _God_ he held on just tight enough, moved and slid that hand sinfully well! How dare Alfred give him quite possibly the best handjob of his life here! Arthur grit his teeth, fighting off his release as much as he was fighting to convince himself that this didn't feel so hot and too electric. His hips were twitching, wanting to roll forward and move with abandon, and in the oncoming haze Arthur wasn't entirely sure he was keeping himself as still as he should. No, he probably wasn't, if what he was sitting on hidden in Alfred's pants was any indication.

But that blinding moment came, the pressure and the release and the shuddering _fuck yes_. Arthur gasped for air, fingers clutching at Alfred tightly as he rode it out. Holy hell... it must have been a while since his last shag if he'd climaxed _that_ hard. Alfred tilted his head back, asking in a normal tone of voice. "Was that alright?" Arthur took in a deep breath, composing himself and returning to his false identity as well as he could.

"I... yes..." That was an understatement. Alfred smiled at him, clearly relieved, before moving to urge Arthur to get up. He complied and watched as Alfred moved to the small wash closet in the corner of the room, cleaning his hands and fetching some damp towels to clean Arthur with as well. He also fetched a couple _other_ items, and Arthur tried to maintain his post release haze of a relaxed afterglow. His nerves were already trying to wake up though.

Alfred knelt down before Arthur, and reached out with one of the towels, as if he'd clean him up. Arthur squawked, pulling away the cloth. "I... I'll do that myself." Alfred chuckled, a nervous habit, and backed up. He seemed hesitant to continue, so Arthur discreetly kicked him in the shin. Gently mind, but enough to jolt him back into action.

"Well, I guess I don't need these anymore," Alfred proclaimed and he looked at the clothes he was wearing, all cheesy lines and cover up smiles. Even when he forced it, he still looked good with his lips curving up like that. With a stupid little wiggle of the hips, Alfred started to strip for him. It was an obvious ploy to try to break the tension, and Arthur knew well Alfred's silly little tricks for when he was really anxious about doing something. If the git wanted to give an awkward strip tease, then Arthur was feeling kind enough to pretend to enjoy it. If it could seriously distract him from what was coming, all the better. He was, after all, the one who was about to be in a world of pain.

Once nude, Arthur could see the full extent of the bruising on Alfred's body, and he revised his pain statement slightly.

Alfred rolled on his protection, reaching for some sort of lubricant and warming it between his hands. He looked at Arthur, smiling enough to charm someone, or at least enough to hide from the cameras how nervous he was. "Alright Gareth... turn around for me babe..."

Did he really need to use the pet name? If not for the endearing tone of voice he was using, the whole situation would have seemed rather rude. Arthur complied, turning to face away from Alfred, kneeling on the loveseat. Alfred came up real close behind him, bending over to contour the older agent with his body. Arthur could hear his breathing right by his ear, reminding himself that if he was willing to take a bullet on the job he could take this no problem. This was recreation for some people for goodness sake! Why was he turning it into such a big deal?

"Trust me Artie," Alfred whispered real low into his ear, and Arthur took in a breath and tried not to squirm when he felt slippery fingers touch him. He tensed, instinctively clenching so that nothing could enter where it shouldn't. Mentally he tried to prepare to relax... when he felt Alfred's fingers slipping about. He... wasn't trying... to insert them anywhere...

Arthur's little movements of discomfort were genuine, for even if he wasn't getting prodded into and opened, it was still unpleasant to have slippery hands moving around down there. Did Alfred have no idea what he was doing? Did he not know how this worked somehow? _'No, he said to trust him...'_ Whatever he was doing, he was taking his sweet time with it, the only real thing happening were the almost not there kisses Alfred made a show of peppering over Arthur's neck. He kept at this for a while, gently preparing for... what?

When he moved his hand away and retrieved more lubricant to prepare himself with, Arthur thought he was catching on, immediately grateful and more than a little touched Alfred had thought quickly enough to decide on this. Alfred positioned himself right up behind Arthur, leaning in as if to kiss his ear. "Legs tight Artie... and... make sure to put on a good show now..."

Arthur took a deep breath... and feigned much discomfort and pain as Alfred entered him... or rather, slid in tight between his thighs. He tried not to wriggle too much, or fixate on when Alfred's length would brush up against his own set. This was _far_ better than actual penetration, he could tolerate this.

"I'm gonna... move," Alfred panted out once 'Gareth' was, apparently, used to the feel of him. Arthur nodded his head uncertainly, acting along in the play as Alfred moved and slid. It made sense really... just in case the garbage was looked through they'd need the used condom, the evidence to support what was being recorded. It was a clever plan, and Arthur repeated that over and over as felt Alfred push for his end. It was too perfect, and unless the camera had the exact perfect angle, they'd never be able to tell.

Alfred came with a groan and a shudder, nearly collapsing them both onto the loveseat. Arthur held them up, listening to the younger agent pant and oh so softly mutter he was sorry. Arthur gave a fond chuckle. "It's fine Alfred, it's fine." He supported the two until Alfred found his legs again, letting the undercover agent take care of cleaning them up. Arthur was given a disposable tissue to wipe off with, which was promptly taken to the facility in the corner and flushed down the toilet. No missing evidence of possible bleeding that way.

They redressed, Alfred looking to the clock before taking a seat and urging Arthur to come lie next to him. "There's a little more time before your session is over," he said casually. And Arthur figured he should relax and play the recuperating virgin. Ex-virgin. Alfred let his fingers dance and tickle through Arthur's hair, staring down at him in full host persona. "I hope I haven't let you down...?"

Arthur smiled shyly up at him. "Not at all... it wasn't romantic... but I certainly wasn't looking for that."

Alfred grinned. "I could do romantic next time, if you'd like."

Quite honestly, Arthur didn't think it possible. "I'd like to see that, yes. Though... your smile was... what I was hoping for."

Happy to please, Alfred continued to show Arthur that smile. The two rested in silence then, Alfred petting Arthur's hair as if to comfort him, Arthur's mind racing and trying to jump away from what they'd just done and back to his upcoming work. He wanted to get to it as soon as possible, but it was still depressing when the usher (Toris, that's what Alfred had said his name was) came and parted them once again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Alfred was half asleep in bed, many hours after Arthur had been taken away, when his door was suddenly opened, Francis rushing inside. The man smelled strongly of wine and sex, but Alfred didn't care at all. No, as the older host all but rushed to Alfred's bedside, the agent could feel a smile splitting his lips, a good mood he'd been dying to share waking him up quickly. While Francis was absolutely ready to comfort and soothe Alfred if the session had been horrible, Alfred needed nothing of the sort.

Overjoyed at finally contacting the outside, Alfred lunged forward once France was half seated on the bed, tossing his arms around the other man and starting to laugh. Francis froze, hands still as he tried to interpret this joyous mirth. "Alfred? Are... are you quite alright?" There was a small current of laughter in his voice, as if picking up that things had gone well without understanding the how or the why. Alfred squeezed Francis tighter for a moment before pushing him away at arm's length. He knew he had to be grinning like a maniac but oh well. Al didn't care.

"It was him!" He whispered, wanting to shout it instead but holding back. Francis arched his brows, waiting for clarification. "One of them got in... Francis, we got some information out! I told Artie about you and the other hosts!"

He watched as Francis blinked in shock, his jaw dropping open before he started to laugh in happiness. Alfred quickly joined in, and the two were soon hugging, laughing and sharing the joy of this moment. But god... it wasn't enough, and Alfred was so elated, riding such a high! He wanted to celebrate, he wanted to shout to the rooftops that it was only a matter of time until the Gallery went down and everyone was free. Their crime and illegal dealings done and making the world and streets safer!

But he couldn't crow that out, he couldn't rejoice like that, and without even thinking about the why he reached out and pulled Francis to him. He kissed the older host, hands tangled in the man's wavy hair, lips and tongue working to expend just a fraction of his happiness right now. Francis didn't even hesitate, wrapping his arms about Alfred and deepening the kiss. Passion soon flooded over joy, and Alfred had to gasp at the sudden lightheaded lust that washed over him.

This... kissing Francis... this was nothing like forcing himself. This wasn't going through the motions with a friend as he'd done with Arthur. As Francis pushed him onto his back, Alfred groaned, thoughts subsiding as talented French hands worked to get rid of pajamas. This... this was... Alfred let out a breathy moan as Francis broke their kiss. _'God... I... I want him...'_ His lips weren't lonely for long as Francis sought out another deep kiss.

* * *

**A/N:**

Poland you sneak. Tricking poor Artie.

After twenty years, I've posted a new chapter! Ok so maybe not _that_ long, but really, I'm seriously sorry for the wait. I'm going to try possibly making shorter chapters from here on in (shooting for the 3-5k range instead of 7-9k or so), because I've got to stop with these giant delays. Of course if I get on a roll I won't stop short, but that's the plan.

Maybe this chapter's fun times made up for the wait a little? Though pfft, we all want to see France/America fun times instead, right? I suppose as an apology for taking so long in posting, I could toss in a 'bonus chapter' next, where France and America 'celebrate' the meeting with Arthur. Feel free to tell me in a review if you'd like that, or if you'd rather I just move on with the plot.

To anyone still reading after all this time, thanks SO much for sticking around! The readers make writing this worth it. I hope you were able to enjoy this chapter.

To any new comers, welcome, and I hope you enjoy.


	8. Chapter 8

The sheer joy and exuberance he felt had long since melted to a heated passion beneath Francis's fingertips, and in a heady dizzy haze, Alfred's mind spun with mixed emotion. Joy, yes, certainly yes. Desire, oh that couldn't be denied. He was certain lust was painting his cheeks a heated shade of red, knew that with his blood feeling on fire like this his skin would reflect such vigor. He almost felt delirious like this, and as he felt stubble graze his collarbone, as he felt addicting kisses peppered over his neck, it wasn't humor that made Alfred begin to laugh. It wasn't that he was tickled either.

He was on top of the world, and perhaps he _could_ blame the airy feeling in his mind on the things Francis was doing to make his blood rush south... but that just couldn't sum it all up. He _had_ to laugh_._ Not at Francis, goodness _no_. He laughed because he needed to... because it felt right and it was almost the only outlet he had for the overwhelming feeling that gripped him even in this passion. Thankfully Francis must have understood, the feeling must have been contagious, for though the older host continued to kiss at his skin, a soft chuckle couldn't help but trickle from deep within him as well.

"Francis..." Alfred murmured, mouth working the name over a couple of times as he tried to find some way to express all this other than laughter. It was almost absurd... _him_ of all people, not able to find any words to say! Francis moved up over him, resting on top of him and silencing Alfred with playful kisses for a moment. Both blonds fell into the moment again, bodies torturing each other as they moved and shifted and pressed deliciously, though eventually Francis pulled back just slightly. From beneath his wavy fall of hair he stared down into the agent's eyes. Blue meeting blue, yet such a vast difference between them.

_'These are the eyes of someone I'm saving.'_ Alfred blinked, something painful yet awesomely sweet washing over him at the thought. It was the surge of emotion before victory, it had to be. It was the feeling he always got doing his job, helping others, yet infinitely more intense right now. "I'm going to do it Francis. I sort of _maybe_ doubted it before... but now I know. _I know._ I'm going to get you out of here. I'm going to take down the Gallery, and they won't hurt the other hosts anymore... won't hurt you... won't hurt your little girl..."

His mouth had hit its stride, and in this moment Alfred saw nothing but opportunity. He saw no limits, no barriers. Arthur's visit hadn't magically changed the situation completely, but it'd managed to cast some sort of spell. It'd washed away the gloom and grime the Gallery had painted over Alfred's eyes. It'd opened them back up completely. The freedom he came here to bring and offer, the release he'd been promising Francis all this time! _'I can finally, finally give it to him. I know without a doubt!'_ He burned with determination. "And once I get us all out... you out... then-"

"Shh..." Francis chuckled, putting a finger to his lips. From the tiny tremble Alfred could feel in it, he knew Francis was sharing his excitement, his heightened emotions.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Do not say any more," Francis bid the younger man beneath him, even if his heart yearned to hear more. He couldn't take it, couldn't take all the optimism and promise and hope that Alfred was brimming with right now. He would lose all his patience, would find it simply impossible to wait any longer. Alfred really was infectious when he started spouting out these dreams, and it was a pity the other hosts weren't here, didn't have this chance to have their spirits refreshed and their hearts refilled. No doubt Feliciano would burst into happy tears, and Francis couldn't stop the sudden fit of hilarity he had trying to imagine Berwald excited.

He needed to stop Alfred from talking now though, from saying anything more. Yes, now was not the time for deep thoughts, introspection, or any sort of confessions of feeling whatsoever. Alfred seemed close to treading such dangerous ground in his euphoria, and Francis was finding it difficult not to get swept along. While on one hand Francis wanted to believe that everything the younger man was saying was absolute truth right now, he wasn't certain that perhaps when it came to... 'them'... Alfred might not say something he didn't exactly mean. No reason to let this good, no, wonderful night lead to awkwardness between them!

How wonderful that Francis could think of many things they could do, rather than talk, no? Bouts of passion, getting caught up physically in the moment, were much less awkward the next day than confessions of possibly false affection. He gave Alfred a kiss as he slid his finger away, lips hungry and tongue quite delighted to find a welcome in. Did he groan or Alfred? Did it even matter? God he could drink in the feeling of this kiss, lose himself in the moment here happily. But... he wanted to celebrate, Alfred wanted to celebrate... so why not have a little fun?

Slowly breaking the kiss, letting his tongue linger and sweep over Alfred's lips, Francis rose. Alfred's eyes, glazed yet in such a wonderful way, stared at him in apparent confusion. A devilish twinkle lit up Francis's eyes, and he smirked. He began to back off the bed, reaching out his hand at seemingly the last moment, letting his fingers touch Alfred's chest and ghost up, stroking up sternum to neck, curling his fingers as they traced the chin forward. Coyly backing away, Francis need not give any sort of beckoning looks. Alfred followed as if he was a snake and Francis the charmer.

"If we are going to celebrate properly," he mused, seemingly casual though the heat in his voice threw that illusion out the window. He continued his backwards saunter, hands playfully teasing Alfred to touch him while simultaneously keeping things chaste. "Then I must certainly wash up. You had me worried, no? I flew straight to your side after my last client." Was it weird how easily Francis could navigate to Alfred's bathroom, backwards, in very dim lighting? Perhaps, but that wasn't a topic for deep thinking at the moment.

The younger man cocked his head to the side slightly, caught somewhere inside a triangle of confusion, lingering want and impatience. Could the agent not understand why he was brought to the bathroom as well? Francis offered him no answers, instead turning to start the shower water, taking his time to find the proper temperature. He made no move to turn on the bathroom light, quite content with the almost surreal blue haze cast by the small safety light that never dimmed. It gave everything an ethereal almost ghostly feel, something not exactly magical really (how magical could a bathroom feel?), but detached.

Francis would be the world's biggest liar if he ever claimed he didn't enjoy stripping for people, but tonight he seemed to enjoy it even more. Perhaps it was the way Alfred watched his fingers move so attentively, easily lead around at his every gesture. Oh removing a shirt, or pants and such, truly didn't take so long as Francis made it seem, but it was time well spent, based on Alfred's expression. Still, the younger blond swallowed hard, and Francis could see the uncertain debate hitting his eyes. The longer this went on... the more difficult it would be to pretend they'd been swept away. This was all becoming very intentional, this celebration of theirs.

"Umm," Alfred began, reminding Francis more of a virginal teen than a well seasoned host. Endearing, really, that Alfred could have these moments after all this time. "I can leave, ya know... while you shower up. Wait for ya so we can... umm... watch a victory movie or something."

When it came to love (or lust or any shade in and around the two), Francis rarely missed his mark. Was this Alfred declining this night? No. Was this Alfred giving Francis of all people a way out? It seemed to be. The older blond stepped into the shower, keeping Alfred in his sight the entire time, and reached out his hand. Alfred had given him a chance here, he could offer the same. Water droplets danced over his head and shoulders, sending his hair into slithering seductive little swirls on his face. The steam of the shower drifted about him in a lazy cloud.

"You could leave if you'd like Alfred," and truly he could, and Francis would think no less of the agent. It might... stab at his heart a bit, and his pride, but it would not change the strength of the bond growing between them... only the nature of it. "Or... you could come in here and help me."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

To hell with leaving. Though most of the blinding euphoria had worn off, though he was now more turned on than jubilant, there was nothing in Alfred that wanted to exit this bathroom right now. Francis had stopped him from talking earlier, which was probably for the best considering some of the things Alfred had almost started confessing. God his mouth sure liked to run when he was excited. It left the agent feeling slightly uncertain about the 'why' of Francis stopping his words, but it was a small uncertainty to this. Maybe Francis didn't want to hear what he'd been saying, but seeing the other host standing in the shower like that made it clear that Francis at least wanted him in some manner. They'd find out if they were on the same page later.

He stripped down quickly, not putting on a show like Francis had and mostly trying not to trip out of his pants in his haste. Just because he didn't 'perform' during the disrobing didn't mean that the whole time Francis hadn't stared at him with clear appreciation. It probably made the tips of his ears go red, but thankfully the meager light wouldn't convey such colors clearly. There was no reason for his glasses in the shower, the lenses would only become spotty and fogged up, and so with his imperfect vision he stepped in the shower.

It wasn't the most spacious affair, the showers provided for the hosts in their private rooms, but it wasn't a terribly small or modest construct either. The day when Francis had been able to stand and stare at him showering from the doorway came to mind, a glimmer of embarrassment echoing back for a moment. The tile of the shower was slick, a muted beige and stony looking affair. It wasn't a shower/tub combo, the floor a perfect square with a drain in the middle, glass panels and a door creating two of the sides, tiles the other. A silver nozzle that could switch to hand-held mode sprayed water down in a steady stream.

Francis had backed away against the wall, the seducing smile on his lips, Alfred's washcloth held in his hands. While Alfred was stripping the other man must have used some of the body wash, for the cloth was covered in tiny bubbles that caught and reflected the dim blue light. Francis seemed to wait until Alfred closed the shower door behind him to move, beginning to trail that washcloth up and over his chest slowly. They were _not_ the vigorous motions of a man trying to get clean... and Francis's attention was decidedly on Alfred's face, not on cleaning his own body.

Rather purposely Francis slid the cloth across his chest, his shoulders and up his neck, more like a caress than anything else. He relaxed back so that he was leaned against the shower tiles, and they had to have been warmed from the lack of chilled reaction the man made. Languidly Francis moved the cloth, tracing the contours of muscles highlighted by water. Alfred wasn't going to do it this time, wasn't going to sit and try to deny that he was attracted to this man. The painfully hard length he had on him was proof enough to remind him that he _wanted_ Francis.

"I do recall I asked you in here to help me," Francis purred out, and the agent needed no further urging to close the gap between them. Their lips pressed together, the soapy cloth pressed against Alfred's back when Francis's arm snaked around him. The heat between them was amazing, no space left between their skin as they held each other and danced tongue and lips. Alfred's hands found their way into Francis's hair, the blond strands wet and slippery and almost tickling his fingers and palms. Francis pulled Alfred closer with his free hand, fingers wandering without inhibition along his side and hip. Wandering lower and making Alfred shiver despite the blaze between them.

It took almost everything Alfred had not to just start moving his body against Francis, and the slick bubbly body wash certainly made their skin slide so very smoothly. He kissed Francis for everything he was worth, the other host kissing back just as passionately as his hands moved. Alfred was slightly confused for a moment when he felt Francis press against him. It wasn't the other man arching into him, it wasn't submission, either. Francis was creating space, and reaching for one of Alfred's hands. If the agent could have found the will power to break their kiss, he might have questioned what Francis was doing. Instead he refused to let either of their lips grow lonely, feeling heady from the short breaths he could barely steal, the steam making the air heavy.

The wash cloth was pressed into Alfred's hand as Francis guided it lower, over his abs and closer to his thigh. The older host twined their fingers together as he guided Alfred's hand, as he traced paths and contours of pleasure. Francis shuddered as he brushed ever closer to the focus of his desire, and Alfred found his pulse speeding up at what seemed to be yet another lesson. Francis was showing him where to touch... how firm or light to caress, and Alfred found himself hungry and eager to learn every sensitive spot the other man had. It was with great pleasure that he took up 'washing' Francis on his own, and he wondered only vaguely if he'd ever been so concerned with finding a lover's erogenous zones before. It seemed his every sense was devoted to interpreting every sigh, moan or shiver he could get out of the other man.

"Ah... Alfred," Francis breathed out between them, breaking the kiss as his eyelids fluttered. The older man seemed to all but melt against the tile, and Alfred continued to stroke along Francis's thighs, his abdomen, every so often wrapping the slick cloth around his length and slicking it up and down. As much as Francis always set the pace, was in control and dominant, at this moment he seemed utterly at ease in the moment, pliant to whatever Alfred desired so long as the agent didn't stop his ministrations. It made Alfred's throat run dry for a moment, a sharp thrill shooting through his belly. He was certain that right now, if he wanted to... if he just reached and drew Francis's leg up... he could take the other man. Claim him and dominate him. Alfred grit his teeth, trying to suppress a groan at the thought and failing.

Francis opened his eyes just slightly, mere crescents allowing a lusty blue gaze to escape. Alfred tried to peer through the other man's lashes, catch a better look at those orbs, before he was distracted by the Cheshire smirk that crept over far too sensual lips. Francis even had the cheek to lick those lips, agonizing in how slowly he did so. Alfred wanted to dip forward and claim that tongue with his own. In fact... he did just that. Their lips worked together, teeth grazing every so often, taking little nibbles and tugs.

"Whatever you want Alfred," Francis whispered, voice nearly drowned out by the water that rushed over them. His lips were nearly pressed against Alfred's ear, however, his voice a tantalizing whisper. "I give myself to you tonight if you wish... or..." And Francis's voice took on a wickedly alluring tone. "You could let _me_ show you why _I'm_ the top host..." He gave Alfred's ear a slow lick, and Alfred accepted that he honestly didn't care _how_ he had Francis, or if Francis had him. He tugged the man closer.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Arthur's hair was still damp from the shower when he signed on to the video chat server. Truth be told... he wasn't really prepared to share the results of the undercover operation yet, wanted more time to compose himself, come to terms with what had happened. Considering how much he knew the others would be dying to hear his information, and considering the fact that his mind refused to reflect on his 'session' with Alfred... Arthur had decided it was best to just get the call over with. He'd cleaned up... god he'd needed that, and debated long and hard the merits of having a drink. Of course he couldn't have one, absolutely not. He needed his wits, because they'd just had a bit of a breakthrough, and he was determined to use this. Make momentum out of this visit. His feelings over this affair could simply wait, or rather, would have to.

It would have been comical, in a different situation, watching the others push and scramble to get into position on the other end of the net. No sooner was everyone settled and the connection secured that Lovino barked out his question. "Is he in there?" It was more of a demand, and the clear strain and worry in Lovino's voice made it shake and waver. The entire man's body seemed wired with tension, and Arthur was kind enough not to keep the man in suspense. He took in a small breath, looking between the images of Lovino and Ludwig, and nodded his head.

"Yes, I was able to confirm that Feliciano Vargas is amongst the hosts at the club, there against his will," Arthur paused, giving the two men a moment to absorb the news before continuing. "Though he's there against his will, he's doing alright..."

Lovino hissed in a breath at the news, eyes going very red and nearly tearing up it seemed. Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze when Lovino didn't swat it away as normal. Ludwig's straight posture never changed, but the way he snapped his eyes shut showed just how deeply affected he was by the news. It was good and bad all rolled into one, but at last questions were being answered. As the two men dealt with the news, Arthur looked at Matthew. The blond had his lips pursed, and Arthur knew just what he was waiting to hear. He gave an ironic smile.

"Alfred's doing just fine as well... it was he who I had my appointment with." The tension visibly melted out of Matthew's shoulders at that, and it warmed Arthur a bit, getting to see the result his news was creating. It further made it all worth it. He gave the other agents the time they needed to compose themselves. It was Antonio who spoke up first.

"So, it was Alfred, then, who told you Feli was ok?" Arthur nodded his head.

"Yes, he was able to positively confirm that, as well as the identities of some of the other hosts." Arthur watched as Antonio perked up a bit, snatching up a piece of paper so that he could write. Without any prompting, the blond began to recite the names Alfred had given him, taking care to pronounce the names as accurately as he could. "... and the final name I recall was Francis Bonnefoy-"

"Francis?" Antonio's brows shot up as he interrupted quite suddenly, and Arthur frowned.

"Yes..."

"Francis _Bonnefoy_?" Antonio's voice seemed rather incredulous, his hands lowering the paper and pen slowly. Arthur paused... doubting himself for a moment, before nodding slowly. Lovino seemed to be regaining his composure a bit, and looked up at the Spaniard.

"What, you know him?" Of all the things Antonio could have done in response, he ended up laughing, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes.

"I... I cannot believe it... that... that's where?" The agent laughed some more, not mirthfully, but laughed he did. Shaking his head, a strange look passed over the man. "Ah, pardon me..." he said vaguely, and quickly he rushed out of Arthur's limited sight. He watched as Lovino shouted at the other man through the video, but apparently Antonio was off to do something. Lovino cursed at him under his breath, and Arthur shifted his attention back to Matthew and Ludwig.

"Tell us everything that happened..." Ludwig asked, and despite the fact that it was a perfectly reasonable request, Arthur paled for a moment. Matthew seemed to notice, a worried frown hitting his lips. Arthur tried to rush to reply, not really prepared to face Matthew and his too intuitive nature. Still, the thoughtful expression Matthew wore as Arthur conveyed everything Alfred had learned showed that in time, Arthur would be forced to confess the _full_ details of the encounter.

* * *

**A/N:**

Originally this was supposed to be the 'bonus' chapter. Then I took forever on it and decided that plot had better well show up, too.

So, in the course of the fic, we're going to see a new host 'hired'. We're getting close to that point, but problem is? I _still_ haven't picked who it will be. I have it narrowed down, and if it matters to you at all, feel free to toss in your two cents. The story angles slightly differently depending on who I settle on.

Candidates:  
Greece  
Egypt  
Hong Kong  
Taiwan

Thanks (as always) for reviews. If I didn't reply to one you left, I do apologize. The review system has been a little wonky lately? For me anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

"... the eggs are burning..."

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin at the soft voice that sounded out behind him. As it stood his hand on the panhandle jerked, sending the cookware clattering from stove top to floor. Turning his head swiftly, he wasn't at all surprised to see Matthew standing not far behind him in the kitchen, shoulders curled and hands clutching at each other in guilty apology. Arthur cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. His stomach was squirming though, leaving him most uncomfortable.

"Tsk... you shouldn't sneak up on people while they're cooking..." He eyed the ruined mass of eggs, black yet still runny all over the floor. "Look, you've made me ruin them," he muttered, ever in denial about his culinary skills.

"... sorry..." Matthew said simply, apologetic yet not, already moving to get some towels to clean up. Arthur bustled to beat him to it, anything to stay busy and avoid the conversation he knew was coming as long as he could. Unfortunately, it didn't take long at all to clean up some ruined eggs and a pan, and in less time than he'd wanted Arthur was stuck sitting on a chair in his own (temporary) kitchen, watching as Matthew began to cook.

No, Matthew wasn't cooking pancakes for him, which was good considering Arthur didn't think he'd be able to stomach something so heavy at the moment. Instead, the younger man, surrogate little brother really, was simply redoing the unfortunate egg breakfast Arthur had started up. Even eating the eggs seemed a bit daunting, now that he had Matthew here, but it wouldn't be wise to skip out on the meal just because of some nerves. Drumming his fingers on the table, Arthur grumbled internally.

No doubt Matthew was quietly baiting him into touching upon the topic first. Oh the young man could be quite persistent and direct when need be, you couldn't rise in the ranks of their profession by being some overly shy wallflower. Indeed, considering Matthew's natural disposition, combined with his intensely unassuming presence, it was very impressive the things Matthew had accomplished. Point was, if the younger man wanted to know something, he'd get to that knowledge. Arthur decided he wasn't of the mind to dance around the topic anyway.

"I'm really alright you know." He was, truly. Absurd to coddle him over this situation. He was a grown adult, he'd gone in eyes open and a willing participant in whatever he had to do. In fact, that it'd been Alfred he'd ended up with should have made all of this completely... completely... alright, it made it worse.

Matthew snorted softly as he transferred the eggs from pan to plate, bringing them over to the kitchen table. He took a seat, adjusting his glasses before shaking his head very slightly. "Someone 'alright' doesn't stare vacantly at a hot pan of eggs for ten minutes. Not even you."

Arthur scoffed. Surely if it'd been ten full minutes the eggs would have been much much worse than he'd seen. The point was well made, not that he felt like acknowledging it. "Watching me stare at eggs for ten minutes? Terrible behavior Matthew."

The younger man shrugged his shoulders, or perhaps he was trying to hunch down a bit. Matthew was so hard to read, too easy to brush off as just displaying shy behavior. "I'm worried about you Arthur."

Oh hell. Damn him. Damn him and his stupid sincerity. Leaning back in his seat, Arthur let out a long sigh. He reached up to rub at his eyes for just a moment before locking eyes with Matthew. "Look... it wasn't... pleasant... alright? I'll admit to that. But you are making more of this than there truly is."

"I don't think I am," the younger agent asserted quietly. Arthur debated the value of continuing to insist to the contrary, knowing that pushing Matthew too far would no doubt lead to a much less pleasant conversation. Those who rarely spoke were often left with _volumes_ of grievances and observations, after all. Arthur would rather avoid having all of that leveled against him at the moment. He'd seen what sort of states it'd reduced Alfred to before.

Taking a small bite of the eggs, delicious they were really, he looked at Matthew with a thoughtful expression. "It seemed to tear him up a bit as well, really. For us to have to do... what we did."

Matthew folded his hands on the table, leaning forward to listen. "You know I'm not trying to force you to say everything you two did..."

And of course, Arthur nodded, he knew that wasn't the heart of what Matthew was driving at. But the young man was concerned for Arthur, concerned for his brother as well, and he had only one place to go to for any sort of information. He owed it to both his 'brothers', perhaps, to be as frank as possible. "At the very least, we avoided any sort of penetration. I do appreciate Alfred's consideration with that... seems he's picked up a few tricks while in there."

Matthew fidgeted a bit, no doubt this was an awkward conversation for him as well. "He... really is alright? He was ok when you arrived... and left?"

"I won't claim to understand how Alfred's head works and deals with things, but he's strong inside. You know this. We... might have some difficulties looking each other in the eye for a bit..." That was an understatement. "But I truly believe he's held up well. Surely you don't think I'd fall apart when he hasn't, hmm?"

The slight jest brought a wry smile to Matthew's lips, but a welcome smile all the same. Matthew shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know I'm making this into something huge... and I _know_ you can handle it. It's not like you're some innocent delicate child." Arthur could only laugh mentally, it'd been a long time since 'innocent' could be applied to this former delinquent. "I'm just frustrated... and need something to focus on... something that I can _do_. For all my specialized training in infiltration and surveillance, the Gallery is like a black hole. I hate being kept out."

"Well... we won't be stuck out here for long. There was _good_ in my 'session' with Alfred after all. I feel we're well on our way to closing this case successfully." Did he feel that? Well, yes, he supposed he did. "We have new, fresh leads, and quite possibly an established way to maintain communication with Alfred. I did make certain to inform 'Poland' that I rather enjoyed my companion for the night."

Matthew stared thoughtfully at the table, nodding though his eyes betrayed something else. Doubts... a worry. Arthur hoped it wasn't the same one he'd had tickling at his brain here and there as well. Pushing his glasses up his nose a bit, Matthew met his gaze. "It seems... very... _lucky_... that you met Alfred there, eh?"

Drat. A sour expression hit Arthur's lips. "Yes," he agreed rather grudgingly. "It was convenient. It's worth thinking about, at any rate. Worth being extra cautious for a bit as well."

Matthew nodded, rising as if that was his cue to return to the convenience store. "You think Alfred suspects? That they may be on to him?" Arthur rose to see the other agent out, handing over a few objects and recordings for the other agents to peruse.

"Hopefully. Dim as he plays it, he'd better be watching."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Alfred was on top of the world, spirits sky high and soaring through the clouds. Granted, you wouldn't have guessed that, what with the way his feet were morosely dragging over the treadmill. But... that was the point. You weren't supposed to know he was happy. His first session with a male partner had been punishment, after all. So if he were suddenly jolly and jumping off the walls in glee... well... that'd be a bit suspicious. Thus, he looked quite ready to sag to his knees in depression as he did his workout.

He tried not to snicker at the image that conjured in his head, poor saggy Alfred body flying backwards off the treadmill into a wall. _'Focus! Keep your sad face on.'_

His mind was really buzzing right now though, thoughts shooting off in a couple of directions, both tangents threatening to make him smile. Much as he wanted to think about Francis... and what last night might have meant about the two of them, practically Alfred turned his head to his mission here. In the long run, success there was the most important thing, for it would lead to so much good for other people.

He'd gotten information out to Artie, but it'd mostly been about the other hosts, the other 'captives'. This was very good and useful, yes of course. It'd give the rest of the team leads to follow, people to interview. Learning about the circumstances around each capture could help to illustrate patterns or possible locations of preference when selecting targets. It could also help reveal the sort of areas members of the Gallery's organization might frequent. No doubt the other agents were all busy out there now.

He wanted to be just as busy in here. It just... he couldn't rush it. Just like he knew he needed to seem down and unhappy, he also knew that he would be keenly watched after that session. And _not_ simply to make sure he hadn't enjoyed it. This wouldn't be the first time Alfred had suspected that the bosses of the Gallery knew who he really was. Sure, he was prone to fits of paranoia sometimes, but his instincts had always served him pretty well in the field.

It wasn't impossible his cover had been blown from the start. He'd done everything he could, they all had, to obscure his identity before he'd been snatched up in here. _However_, he understood pretty well that it could be to the Gallery's advantage to keep their enemies close. They'd never made any indication either way, and if they'd only had _suspicions_, Alfred was certain he'd done nothing so far to confirm them. And he _wouldn't_. Their bringing Artie in like that could have been a test, or it could have been coincidence. Alfred would prepare for either situation, and in the off chance that the Gallery really was ignorant of what had happened... he'd be certain to have more information to send out next time.

Unfortunately, the information he really wanted... _needed_... was up on the fourth floor. Making a successful second attempt to get up there was... something he needed to figure out. The staircase to it loomed beyond the gym door, tempting and teasing and taunting him. What he wouldn't do for his gun, a few guys for backup, and the go ahead for a good ol' fashioned raid. He honestly was no closer to figuring out the best way to infiltrate the upper floor, sadly, and he wished he had even half of his brother's sneaking skills. Or an invisibility cloak... or device (since he preferred science). Weren't cloaking devices supposed to be invented by now?

The door to the gym opened, and thanks to his dejected and sloppy running gait he honestly almost tripped and fell in his surprise. Fumbling and clutching at the front panel of the treadmill, Alfred chided himself for not paying better attention to things. Thankfully he managed to find his feet enough to hop them onto the non-moving sides of the machine, giving him the chance to breathe. Muffled laughter hit his ears and he gave a half-hearted sheepish grin.

"Careful there," Emma said as she walked over, hair tied out of her face with a bow, workout towel draped over her shoulder. She reached over and tapped the button to stop the treadmill for him, eyes still amused, just masking the concern.

"Thanks," Alfred said, genuinely, too. _He_ should have just done that. Emma nodded her head, taking a step away to start up some stretches on a floor mat. Alfred watched as he toweled off, moving to plop himself on an upright sitting weight machine.

He didn't spend a lot of time with Emma... though outside of Francis he didn't spend a lot of time with anyone. Still... if you considered Francis the 'big brother' to the other hosts here, then it was probably safe to say that Emma was the 'big sister'. She didn't seem to take _nearly_ as much initiative in helping new hosts grow accustomed to their lives here as Francis did, but from what he'd heard casually mentioned, she was always there to help all the same. With morale and emotional issues mostly, but she'd help in other ways if need be. Berwald had mentioned he wouldn't be able to be here at all without her coaching (or... Alfred thought he had. He... was never too sure he understood the Swedish man correctly).

Alfred hadn't needed anyone to help him grow accustomed to the idea of sleeping with women, of course, and unlike some he'd managed to keep an upbeat and happy air about him at all times. Add in Francis's persistent attention, and it was no wonder Emma had seen no need to busy and fret over Alfred. Now though... he wondered if meeting her here was another coincidence... or another 'coincidence'. He did look pretty mopey right now... but surely she wasn't watching so closely that she'd found that out the minute he stepped out of his room?

"You look down, Alfred," she said sympathetically, leading with the obvious because there was really no reason not to. She offered him a smile, and Alfred had to try really hard not to smile back. She had a lovely smile, and Alfred liked to answer smiles with ones of his own. He sighed to cover it up.

"I guess I am... sorta... I'll be fine..." He gave as much of a shrug as was safe while pumping iron.

Emma rose, finished with her stretches, and sat upon a leg weight machine. "We all know, what last night was for you," she said, watching him closely, though keeping her face pleasant. Apparently, she didn't want to drop the issue, had to make sure he was really alright.

Alfred chuckled humorlessly, looking away. "Yeah? Uh... who knew there was so much gossip going around."

"Well... when you get thrown down the stairs by one of the bosses... it makes a bit of a stir," her eyes twinkled a bit in good humor, not at his misfortune, but to keep the atmosphere light. Alfred appreciated it, he never liked being nagged at.

"It'll take more than that to break me, it's cool," the agent tried to brush it off, because honestly it would. Emma looked away for a moment, something almost like embarrassment crossing her face as it seemed she debated about asking about something.

"True..." she said, flicking her eyes back to Alfred only briefly. "I... was actually a little surprised to see you so down in here. You _do_ seem the sort that bounces back quickly and all." She paused, again some sort of internal debate going on in her mind. "I _know_ it's none of my business but..."

Alfred didn't like where this was going, and his mind connected the dots just as she started speaking. "The wall of your bathroom does share the wall with mine... I don't usually get up at night but..."

Was his face as red as it felt? Probably. He fumbled for any good way to talk out of this situation, but her cheerful laughter stopped his attempts as much as the hand she raised. She shook her head. "You don't need to say anything... I'm guessing you wouldn't really say what's going on anyway. I... don't _want_ to hear that when I wake up at night, hear too much of it as it is... but it's ok. Especially since... well...

"Francis needs someone to make him happy, too. To look out for him, and he's a bit more than I can handle. So _if_ I heard what I think I did... then... I'm glad."

Nodding his head, Alfred felt something nice and warm inside his chest (alongside a huge helping of humiliation, but hey, he'd focus on the warm fuzzies instead). He dropped his fake depression act, not seeing how he could _not_ be cheered up by this conversation. This seemed to cheer Emma up as well, and the two got into the rhythm of their workouts in earnest. "Just remember," she added, sending a friendly wink at him. "We're all together in this... you can count on any of us if you need anything."

Did _everyone_ have to drop cryptic hints that they knew what he was? But, he could understand them wanting to help and be involved if it meant a ticket out of this place! Alfred just laughed, loud and boisterous as he liked to, and nodded his head. "Gotcha."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Matthew had only been back for a short while when there was a small commotion in the alley outside the backdoor of their hideout. Ludwig didn't tense, his training had drilled that out of him, but his body had immediately reacted to the out of place sound. The laptop he'd been using to look into a few leads was snapped shut, shoved into an over the shoulder bag which was slung onto his body with mechanical precision. His hand moved to his firearm as his body took purposeful steps towards a point of cover. Lovino had also sprung into action, moving towards the door as the first point of defense. Matthew... well, the fact that Ludwig couldn't place him meant the other agent was doing as his training dictated.

It was too early in the day for this to be a wandering drunk, and the noise wasn't loud or chaotic enough to be a roving band of delinquent teens. No, the small ruckus wasn't over the top, but the sounds of someone trying to keep someone else quiet were like sirens to a trained agent's ears. Oh someone, a couple someones, were trying to come up and enter the back of the store. Question was, who? That and 'why'.

Muffled voices didn't carry well enough for Ludwig to determine who was approaching, though the furrow of Lovino's brow sent off some sort of bell in his mind. It was the look of someone who _thought_ they recognized a voice. The Italian wasn't really taking any chances, still crouched in his position. Ludwig flicked his eyes to the side, wondering what was taking Matthew so long to check out the meager surveillance cameras they'd put up, or at the very least peek out a window. Then again, Ludwig did know that on more than a couple occasions Matthew had come back to give the all clear signal, and they'd somehow missed it completely.

Everything went completely silent for a moment, save the sounds of normal customers out front, and Ludwig almost relaxed. _Almost_. He was far too cautious to, and as the back door was suddenly kicked open his mind screamed at how right he'd been not to let down his guard. He was ready to take aim at the intruder, but faltered and gaped when he stared at who'd just come in. It wasn't Antonio's return that had Ludwig staring as if he were seeing a ghost. The entrance certainly wasn't Antonio's style, but it was expected the agent would return at some point. No... it was staring at the _other _man who'd come in that was making Ludwig's mind fizzle out for just a moment.

Pale skin, eyes that looked red, and snowy hair all gave away the laughing man's identity. Lovino, obviously not recognizing the man, trained his gun, only to have Antonio step over. The two conversed in hurried Spanish, which made everything feel rather surreal. Frankly, Ludwig couldn't believe his eyes. He would have pinched himself if he were the sort to cave in to such nonsense. But... there was no way he'd be hallucinating this, and that laugh was so distinctive.

"... Gilbert?" It felt strange to say the name, after all these years. The man just laughed louder, though thankfully Antonio had had the sense to shut the door.

"Hey West... long time no see. Did you miss the awesome me? Ha! Of course you did!" Dressed like some sort of street vagabond or thug, Gilbert strolled over, all feral toothy smile and cocky posturing. Ludwig felt himself standing straighter, taller, as if somehow he could force Gilbert to straighten out through example. So many questions washed over his mind, it was all so overwhelming... but Ludwig was nothing if not in control of his emotions and responses. He cleared his throat when his older brother was still a short distance away, a slight frown touching his face.

"News of your death was, apparently, greatly exaggerated," he said at length, choosing not to feel the hurt and betrayal he should when making such a statement. Honestly... having grown up under Gilbert's care... faked death seemed plausible and normal. His brother nodded, crossing his arms.

"Well, I couldn't keep making my baby brother worry, right? I knew how tough it'd be on ya if you were going into the law for a career to have, well, a _criminal_ as a brother. So, being the insanely _awesome_ guy that I am, I fixed the problem for ya! _And_ got myself off the grid, win-win! Awesome right? Kesesese!"

Ludwig was speechless for a moment, but he often was when faced with his brother. Instead, he turned to look at Antonio, who seemed to have finished explaining their guest away to Lovino for now. He tried to hold in his temper as he questioned the other man, but wasn't too certain he succeeded based on the tiny flinch. "You knew he was alive, all this time?"

Antonio spread his hands in a placating gesture, offering a smile. "Sorry my friend, but Gilbert made me swear not to tell you! You never asked anyhow... and I have been friends with Gilbert for a long time... for better or worse."

Ludwig honestly didn't know what to say to that... how to respond... so he shelved it away for now, preferring business and duty and tasks to messy emotional affairs. He had his hands full dealing with his worry for Feliciano... his feelings for Gilbert... would have to find some later date to be addressed. Although... "Why did you bring him here?"

"Because," Antonio began brightly, apparently confident he wasn't in for any lectures at the moment. "Gilbert and I were great friends with one of the captive hosts in there, I thought he'd want to help..."

"_And_," Gilbert cut in, a malicious smirk on his face. "I have a score to settle with those Gallery assholes anyway! They've been trying to drive me outta my turf, and _no one_ pushes me around." Ludwig frowned, just about to voice his concerns over his brother's involvement when a voice far closer than he expected broke in softly.

"I don't think it's a good idea to have a self admitted criminal assisting us," it was Matthew, staring in a rather contemplative way at his brother. "We're walking the line as it is, so far as gathering evidence the courts will accept..." Despite how softly he spoke, there was a great deal of resolve in his words. "I don't want to see Alfred or Arthur's efforts wasted."

Ludwig watched as Gilbert arched a brow, watched as his brother strode rather menacingly towards Matthew. To his credit, the bespectacled blond didn't back away. He might have dipped his head a bit, but he didn't break eye contact. "And what if I say I don't care what _you_ think?" Gilbert scoffed.

Matthew pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged. "I'd say you should be more careful about flaunting your criminal status around armed agents of the law."

A wide smile broke out on Gilbert's lips, and Ludwig knew his brother was getting a kick out of what seemed to be nothing but a meek pushover standing up to him. "That so, huh? Is that a threat?"

Matthew said nothing, just held Gilbert's gaze in what was quite possibly the most passive display of dominance you could imagine. _If_ you could imagine such a thing. It had Gilbert laughing after a few moments, shaking his head and clapping Matthew on the back a couple of times.

"You're a riot, kid! But fine, have it your way. If you guys don't want my help... then whatever. It's a waste not to, but it's cool. But I'm gonna stay here no matter what... to watch over my baby brother here and keep tabs on your efforts to get Francis outta there. Man, can't believe that's where that guy's been all this time!" Gilbert pulled out a chair and sat back, propping his feet on the table. Ludwig twitched, but tried not to comment. "_However_... if you guys, ya know, change your mind... the awesome me is willing to lend a hand."

* * *

**A/N:**

I've decided to refer to Belgium as Emma. As far as I know there's no official human name given for her, and that Emma is on a list of officially blogged possibilities. _IF_ I've missed her official human name, my apologies, and feel free to let me know (source would be great, too).

Thanks for the input about our future host. I've made my decision, and 2 hosts will actually be joining us. One more heavily tied to the plot than the other.

Thanks for the reviews everyone! This is my most alerted fic (though not the most fav'd), so hopefully people are having fun reading. And, most importantly, hope everyone is _enjoying_.


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